Little Duckling
by inkstainedpinky
Summary: AU.  Ugly duckling Lucy Fabray was picked on and bullied during her childhood years. Resurrected as gorgeous Hollywood swan and A-lister Quinn Lucas, she is content hiding behind a cold facade. However, Fate just might have other plans.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters represented in this fiction. They are the property of FOX and Ryan Murphy, et al.

**Summary:** AU. Ugly duckling Lucy Fabray was picked on and bullied during her childhood years. When her family moves across the country, she sees it as a chance to start anew. Resurrected as gorgeous Hollywood swan and A-lister Quinn Lucas, she has retreated into herself, fortified behind a façade of cool aloofness. However, when Fate steps in with a blast from the past, it just might be enough to coax an Ice Queen from her castle.

**Rating:** T overall, some M-rated chapters in the future.

**Pairing:** Quinn/Rachel; Brittany/Santana

_Alright, this is my first multi-chapter attempt, and I guess a pretty ambitious one. As the summary suggests, this is an AU story, so things have progressed a bit differently than was stated in the canon we all know and love; the changes will be pretty evident as the story continues. _

_At the core, of course, this is a Faberry story with heavy emphasis on the relationships the characters share. The plot will focus on evolution from both Rachel's and Quinn's perspectives, a journey that will be paralleled with the film's storyline._

_Hope you enjoy!_

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><p><strong>LITTLE DUCKLING<strong>

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><p><span>PROLOGUE<span>

_** Lucy Fabray ducked her head down, clutching tight to the straps of her backpack as she shuffled along the hall. She tried to stay invisible, shrinking close to the lockers, attempting to disappear into the crowd, hoping that no one would notice her. **_

_** No such luck.**_

_** "Hey, hey! Lookie who we have here!"**_

_** She wasn't sure who decided it, but it seemed that the most popular guy absolutely had to be a star athlete, irritatingly good-looking, and the biggest asshat in the world – at least in her experience. Denny Campbell was no exception. The large, muscular boy always seemed to have some sort of radar when it came to her and took great pride in making her life nothing short of hell. The quarterback approached her, flanked by a lineman and his girlfriend, head cheerleader Sadie Mitchell. She cringed, knowing full well what the friendly look on Denny's handsome face meant.**_

_** Lucy tensed as a heavy arm landed roughly across her shoulders. To most, the gesture would have seemed friendly, genial. Lucy knew better. **_

_** "Hiya, Lucy Caboosey!"**_

_** An insipid giggle flew from Sadie's mouth. Lucy despised her just as much as her lunkhead boyfriend. The head cheerleader had the intelligence of a gnat, and Cheerleader Barbie had a whole army of like-minded idiots to do her bidding to completely harass and humiliate one Lucy Fabray.**_

_** Denny continued the conversation, not minding the silence of his companion, the leather sleeve of his letterman's jacket chafing against Lucy's neck. "You know, Lucy Caboosey, I've been thinking." Denny meandered along, pretending to do so. Lucy seriously doubted his abilities. "I've stuffed you into a garbage can, I've stuffed you into the laundry cart, and I've hung you from the coat rack of the chemistry lab, but what I haven't done in awhile is stuff you into a locker." He grinned, a blinding flash of white teeth. **_

"_**It's rather rude of me, don't you think?"**_

_** A contradiction to the statement wouldn't have done her any good, and Denny lifted Lucy bodily, her legs dangling a foot off the floor. The lineman opened the door to a nearby empty locker, and Denny walked her over. With very little fanfare, he pushed her in, at least offering the courtesy to help her duck down.**_

_** "Whoop, watch your head, Lucy Caboosey! We hope your stay at the Locker Hotel, Suite 243 is pleasant." **_

_** With a friendly grin, Denny slammed the locker shut. She could hear their laughter as they continued down the hall.**_

_** Lucy sighed, laying her head against the slats filtering light into the cramped space she had been so unceremoniously stuffed into. She started knocking on the door, hoping some generous soul would help her.**_

_** At least this locker didn't smell like tuna fish like the last one. She hated tuna fish.**_

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><p><strong>KANE CASTS UNKNOWN IN NEW SERIES<strong>

New face leads comedy on NBC

_ Quinn Lucas is the new name on Hollywood's lips. Tessa Kane, creator of perennial ratings juggernaut _On the Hill_ has named the virtually unknown actress as the lead for her new scripted show _Queen of Babble_ based on the book series by Meg Cabot, author of the Princess Diaries novels. _

Queen of Babble _follows Lizzie Nichols, a recent college graduate ready to chase her dreams. But Lizzie Nichols has one fatal flaw: she can't keep her mouth shut to save her life. Navigating through the trials and tribulations of the real world and life, she struggles to keep secrets buried for the sake of her friends and family…if not her sanity. _

_Lucas will be joined by Pierce Olivier as Luke, Lizzie's French summer fling, and Kayla McKenzie as Shari, Lizzie's best friend._

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><p><em><strong>The grounds of Theodore Roosevelt High School bustled with the chaos of the morning. Students filled every inch of the hallway, spilling out onto the courtyard and rest of the grounds. The cacophony of slamming locker doors mingled the low hum of chatter. All movement seemed to stop and all noise seemed to dim to white noise when the doors flew open and Quinn Fabray entered the building.<strong>_

_**She glided through the halls, head held high, cold hazel eyes fixated on the path ahead but not seeing. She didn't need to shove her way through the masses; the masses parted in her wake. Stares followed her as she moved graceful and sure. There was a potent aura surrounding her, an untouchable force field that repelled all who attempted to approach. Only one was brave enough. Only one had the privilege, and he did so, nudging her with a shoulder. She smiled at him. It was nothing more than a quirk of the lips but it was a smile nonetheless. **_

_** They were an odd pair. She was the ethereal, aloof beauty. He was the lanky, gawky nerd. But, to the consternation of the populous, they got along famously. He was her closest friend. **_

_**It seemed to defy the very principles of high school hierarchy, but Quinn Fabray was different than the rest of the popular elite. A girl that painfully beautiful should be a raging bitch; but she wasn't. If anything, she was indifferent to her popularity and held a weird soft spot for the misfits of the school. She had a habit of standing up for the little man, something that seemed to irk the rest of the food chain. But from the moment Quinn Fabray had stepped into the halls of Theodore Roosevelt, she had shirked the norm. She certainly was different. **_

_**A lot different.**_

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><p>'<strong>QUEEN' NEW RATINGS ROYALTY<strong>

Police procedural bows to new comedy

_Police procedural and ratings darling_ Code Blue _has finally been unseated as America's top show. _

_The culprit? Tessa Kane's new comedy _Queen of Babble.

_Ripe with young talent, including emerging star Quinn Lucas, the newest ratings royalty melds infectious, quirky humor with engaging storylines that have left critics and viewers alike hanging onto Lizzie Nichols' every babbling word. NBC has already ordered a full second season, and there is slight Emmy buzz surrounding the show and cast._

_No one is surprised with this development as _Queen of Babble_ has steadily been gathering more and more viewers each week as people continue to tune into the latest Lizzie Nichols' caper, and it's only time before series star Quinn Lucas can be seen in an even grander scale._

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><p><em><strong>Quinn Fabray leaned back against the cushion of the chair in the middle of the coffee shop serving as her study space. Barely two weeks into the quarter of her second year of USC, and she already felt burned out. Quinn sighed, flipping through her textbook to the appropriate chapter, her eyes flicking from the print to the notebook covered by a litany of scrawled ballpoint markings and highlighter slashes. Not for the first time, she questioned if not for the sheer amount of reading required by her professors.<strong>_

_**A leg jostled her knee, disrupting the book perched atop of it, and adding an unneeded underline below her first line of notes concerning the "social contract" ideal. Quinn looked up to see a professional-looking woman balancing a cup of coffee atop a stack of papers, her free hand holding the handle of a leather satchel alternatively slung from her shoulder.**_

"_**I beg your pardon."**_

_** "It's okay," Quinn assured the woman, shifting so her knee wasn't so far out. "Nothing hurt." She showed the mess that served as her notes. "Blends right in."**_

_** The woman smiled her thanks before her clear green eyes perused the seated Quinn shrewdly. As Quinn returned her attention to her book, the woman continued to stare at her. It was becoming a bit unnerving, and Quinn cocked an eyebrow.**_

_** "Can I help you?"**_

_** The woman sank into the seat across from her, emerald eyes boring into her intensely. "Has anyone ever told you that you have a classic beauty?"**_

_** Taken aback, Quinn shifted in her seat, gaze narrowing suspiciously. "Not lately, but thank you for the compliment."**_

_** "You're welcome." The woman scrutinized her in a way Quinn hadn't experienced since high school. She took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. "You have a face that would look great on television."**_

_** Quinn snorted, flipping a page in her book. "And let me guess, you're gonna be the one who gets me there?"**_

_** The woman straightened, the gesture flirting with the line between confident and arrogant. "You're damn right. What's your name? Can you act?"**_

_** There was something in the woman's voice that made Quinn pause, eyes snapping back to her elder, unsolicited companion. "Wait, seriously?"**_

_** "Seriously." The woman reached into her satchel, withdrawing a card from a leather case.**_

_** Quinn grasped the offering, reading the elegantly stenciled name. "Grace Carson." This time, Quinn's cool hazel eyes scanned the woman before her, closely scrutinizing. "You really are for real."**_

_** Grace crossed her legs, adopting a casual pose, one hand coming up to flick through salt-and-pepper hair cut in a stylish bob. "I sure am. Now can I get a name for this face that will be on billboards?"**_

_** "Quinn Fabray."**_

"_**Well, Quinn Fabray, it was a pleasure meeting you." Grace Carson's lips curled up in satisfaction. "Give me a call."**_

_**Quinn looked down at the card, frowning thoughtfully. Acting, huh? Well, it wasn't like she hadn't been doing just that for the last five years.**_

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><p><strong>QUINN LUCAS TO STAR IN NEW KELLER DRAMA<strong>

Lucas makes the jump to the big screen in military film

_In a casting move that surprised absolutely no one, Hollywood It-Boy Christian Keller announced Quinn Lucas of the highly successful NBC series _Queen of Babble _would be his leading lady in his highly anticipated next film, _Duty and Honor_. This marks the first jump to the big screen for Lucas, a virtual unknown before helming the Kane comedy-romance series that has overtaken the airwaves._

_This time around, Keller is hitting the more controversial notes with a drama focusing on Sloane Gerard, an American Marine fresh from a tour of duty, as she lives an out life in her Midwestern suburb for the first time since Don't Ask Don't Tell has been repealed. As she attempts to assimilate to civilian life once again, Sloane finds herself intrigued by the owner of the new bakery in town and struggles between her hidden past and her prospective future as an openly gay soldier. No word yet on who is playing opposite Lucas._

_ Lucas will return for a second season of her hit series _Queen of Babble_ set to premiere in the fall._

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><p>Quinn exited the taxicab, striding into the building. She looked around at the sheer opulence of the innards and shook her head. Chris Keller sure didn't do things by halves.<p>

"Hi, welcome to Shaolin Studios. How may I help you?" The pretty brunette receptionist raised her head, eyes widening as she took in the woman standing on the other side of the desk. "Oh my God! I love your show!"

"Thanks. It's always nice to meet a fan." She nodded to the receptionist. "I'm here for the Chris Keller table read."

"Name, please?" Even though the young girl obviously knew who she was, Quinn knew it was just protocol.

"Quinn," she answered. "Quinn Lucas."

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><p>xxx<p>

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><p><strong>MILLIE TO RETURN TO BROADWAY IN REVIVAL<strong>

Boasts cast full of new talent

_It's been a long time coming, but the 2002 Tony winner for Best Musical, is finally getting its revival. _Thoroughly Modern Millie_, set to reclaim its former home at the Marquise Theatre, finally has its Millie Dillmount. That woman is Rachel Berry, director Tony Langella announced this morning. _

_In the much anticipated revival of one modern woman's quest for love in the Roarin' Twenties, new talent Rachel Berry has been named the headliner to this fan favorite. In her final year at New York University's Tisch School of the Arts, Berry is set to take this new production on her shoulders. Berry is joined by rising Broadway heartthrob Brady Shaw as Jimmy Smith and veteran Marcus Kantor as Trevor Graydon, III. Previews are scheduled to begin in late March._

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><p><strong>GIMME, GIMME!<strong>

Critics and theatergoers can't get enough of Rachel Berry

_The roof of the Marquis Theatre is still intact, but if it weren't, that would be the doing of one Miss Rachel Berry. In her Broadway debut as Millie Dillmount, the "modern" woman looking for love, Rachel Berry has defied all expectation and emerged as the bona fide star of the production. Critics and theatergoers alike are raving about the pint-sized diva with the tremendous voice belting through showstoppers like "Gimme Gimme" and dancing her way through "Forget About the Boy." _

_ The Tony buzz has begun for this remarkable revival, and no one can deny that it has strengthened to a roar with anticipated nominations for the musical, the direction, and Rachel Berry for Lead Actress. Needless to say, it is pretty apparent that Rachel Berry has cemented herself as the latest Broadway talent._

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><p><strong>BROADWAY WORLD'S FRESH FACE:<strong>

_Rachel Berry_

Age: 23

Currently: Starring as Millie Dillmouth in the revival of _Thoroughly Modern Millie_

Hometown: Lima, Ohio

Written in the Stars: "When I was younger, I placed gold star stickers after my name. I meant it as a metaphor, and it kind of became my thing.

Only in New York: Berry has had her eye on the Great White Way since she was young, but it was far from easy. "I faced a lot of adversity growing up," she laments. "I wasn't shy about stating my goals and I was certainly very bullheaded when it came to them. It would have been easy to stay in the small town and settle, but my dads liked to say I was too big to stay in a Bean. I was meant for an Apple." As for the rigors of such belting numbers such as "Gimme Gimme"? "'Don't Rain on My Parade' has been my signature song since I was four," she admits sheepishly. "No offense to Sutton Foster, but if I can handle Barbra, I can handle anything!"

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><p>The Radio City Music Hall was packed to the brim with the elite of Broadway performers for the most prestigious award show of the Great White Way. Since the beginning of the season, Tony Award buzz had been flaring up as new shows opened, but the most prominent of said buzz centered around the revival of <em>Thoroughly Modern Millie<em> and the woman who helmed the new smash production. As the date loomed, critics, theatergoers, and performers waited anxiously for the evening in early June when erstwhile predictions would either be verified or refuted.

As the A-list of Broadway stars gathered together to celebrate the best of the best, the evening wore on, and the prior award announcements proved to be relatively unsurprising. It seemed evident that everyone in attendance knew exactly which award fueled the most anticipation. Finally, Sutton Foster and Gavin Creel took the stage to present the award for Best Performance by a Lead Actress in a Musical.

Sutton Foster smiled as her former costar read through the introductory monologue and the nominees. She uttered the words everyone had been waiting for.

"And the Tony Award goes to…"

Gavin Creel opened the envelope, reading the contents. "Rachel Berry, _Thoroughly Modern Millie_."

The spotlight panned the audience until it settled on the starlet in question. Rachel froze, processing for the barest of moments, and she rose, the action more from Santana's insistent hand rather than her own power. Finally, comprehension smacked her solidly across the face, and she broke into a beaming smile, turning to hug her friend before turning towards the aisle and making her way up to the stage.

With shaking hands, she accepted the award, hugging the two presenters before her. Slightly unsteadily, she approached the microphone.

"Oh, goodness…" Rachel looked down at the trophy, unsure of whether or not it was real. "Practicing in front of my bedroom mirror when I was ten surely never felt like this, and I could never make the tinfoil trophies this heavy." She broke, reaching out to spin the medallion, giggling to herself, and shrugged. "I'm sorry, I had to." She allowed the twittering laughs to sound, giving herself time to regain her composure. "Firstly, I'd like to thank my amazing cast and crew. To B and S for taking me under their wing and giving me some iron to my chin. To my parents, thank you for indulging a little girl an impossible dream and allowing that dream to bloom. To everyone behind the scenes, management, agents, to the fans, thank you, just thank you."

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><p><strong>BERRY HITS CHICAGO<strong>

Rachel Berry to appear as Roxie Hart for limited engagement

_From one hit to another, Rachel Berry will be heading just down the street to headline another Broadway smash. This time around, Berry will be to slip on a pair of prison fatigues at the Cook County Jail as Roxie Hart for a limited engagement starting at the end of the month._

_ A relative newcomer to the Great White Way, Berry notched her Broadway debut with the revival of Thoroughly Modern Millie, a production that netted her a Tony Award for her performance as Millie Dillmount._

_ Berry will be joining Tara McElroy as Velma Kelly and Tony-winner Justin Westbrook as Billy Flynn._

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><p>Rachel Berry nodded to the security guard as he opened the stage door, smiling brightly in thanks. Her smile only widened as she was greeted by a throng of dedicated fans waiting behind the barrier. She waved happily, beginning to work her way down the line. It became a routine – take a Playbill, sign her name, pose for a picture – but it never got old.<p>

She stopped in front of a young girl held aloft by her grinning father, her little feet balanced on the top rail of the barrier, and took the Playbill offered to her.

"You were wonderful tonight, Miss Berry," the girl said shyly.

"Thank you, sweetie." Rachel smiled. The little girls were the best ones. "What's your name?"

"Heidi." She smiled a gap-toothed smile. "I want to be just like you when I grow up. I want to be on Broadway too."

"Well, let me let you in on my little secret," Rachel answered. "If you want to be a star, you gotta reach for the stars and never let anyone bring you down." She finished her signature with a large star and handed it back to the young girl with a wink. "Good luck, little star."

Rachel looked out to the masses of people clamoring for pictures and autographs, waving Playbills and posters in her direction and couldn't help but beam. She had been that little girl not too long ago, and there was certainly truth to her words; after all, it had been the principles she had lived by. She took one more look. Yes, this certainly was a long way from Lima, Ohio.

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><p>xxx<p>

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><p><em>Sloane Gerard walked down Main Street, her hands in her pockets. She rotated her head slowly, taking in the sights of her hometown. It was too…quiet. Too still. She felt out of place in this town. To be honest, she never really fit in to begin with.<em>

_ Where Mike Brown's flower shop used to be was a quaint little bakery. 'Sweet Rose Bakery' was the name adorned on the sign. The smells emanating from the door drew her in like a moth to flame, and before she knew it, Sloane had eclipsed the threshold, hovering by the tables, looking at the displays. Everything looked so…good._

_ "You know, they taste even better than they look."_

_ Sloane's head snapped up, and she found herself staring into a pair of bright green eyes. She felt her jaw sag, her vision panning out to take in the gorgeous face and flowing blonde hair. _

_ "But, you know, I am kind of biased." The woman looked at her expectantly. "Can I get you anything?"_

_Sloane started from the beauty-induced coma. "Oh, uh, sorry. I was just curious." She gestured weakly to the sign outside the door. "This is new. Mike Brown's used to be here."_

_ The blonde waves shimmered as the woman nodded. "Yeah, but then Mike won the lottery then decided to retire to Coco Beach."_

_ "Oh…" Sloane murmured lamely. "I, uh, didn't know that. It's been awhile since I've been back here." She stuck out a hand. "Sloane Gerard."_

_ "Mia St. Claire." The blonde smirked, twirling a strand of her hair around a finger. "And eight years, five months, and twenty-two days to be exact," Mia recited. At Sloane's amused expression, Mia shrugged. "People talk when the prodigal daughter returns."_

_ "Great," Sloane mumbled, eyes dropping down, hands sliding deeper into her pockets. "That's exactly what I didn't want to happen."_

_ Mia bit her lip, rotating coyly. "Might have done you better not to have waltzed into town for the first time in eight years with the uniform then, huh?"_

"CUT! Wait, wait, stop." Christian Keller stood from his chair, moving towards his lead actresses. "Jennifer, you're supposed to be more friendly, more open. You're not trying to seduce Sloane just yet. You're genuinely just curious about her."

Jennifer Wolfe looked at the director, and it was obvious from the furrow in her brow that the actress seemed to have a hard time processing the direction. Still, she nodded. "Got it, Chris."

Chris returned the nod, rotating to his other lead. "Quinn, that was good. Maybe a bit more hesitancy in the body language?"

"Alright, Chris," came his answer.

Retreating back to his chair, Chris Keller whirled an index finger. "Let's try this again, folks. From the introductions."

Chris waited as the two actresses took their marks, the camera crew rotating around back to their positions.

"And, ACTION!"

_"Oh…" Sloane ducked her head, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "I, uh, didn't know that." She shrugged. "It's been awhile since I've been back here." She cautiously extended a hand. "Sloane Gerard."_

_ "Mia St. Claire." The blonde held on longer than necessary. "And eight years, five months, and twenty two days to be exact." Mia leaned forward, arms bracing on the counter, her cleavage on full display. "People talk when the prodigal daughter returns."_

"CUT!"

Chris closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. He didn't have to look around to see the apprehension on the rest of the crew's face. One didn't have to be a seasoned director to comprehend that there was a weak link in this pairing. If this movie wasn't going to completely flop, he had to do something.

"Uh…" Chris ducked his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know, guys, I think we're gonna call it today. I've got to rework this scene."

Ben Brantley, the film's producer, waited for the set to clear out before turning to Chris. "You really want to rework the scene? I thought it was fine as is."

"I don't have to rework anything," Chris dismissed with a snort. "This isn't working." He gestured to the doorway Jennifer Wolfe disappeared through. "_She's_ not working."

Ben nodded, hands fidgeting anxiously with the script in his hands. "There's a clear separation in acting ability and there's absolutely no chemistry; there's no connection."

Chris nodded his agreement, grabbing his notes. "What the hell was I thinking?" he grumbled, running a hand through his light brown hair.

"She had a good screen test and there was something appealing about her," Ben tried to reason as they walked towards a conference room to meet with the rest of the production team to try and find a solution to this problem. "Just so happens once you put her with Quinn…"

"The vapid shallowness becomes more apparent," Chris finished. "Yeah, I know." He nudged his glasses up his nose and flipped through the newspaper he finally had a chance to read now that he had a break. "We need someone that will look like she can stand beside Quinn and not look completely outclassed."

"Yeah, someone who would shine just as bright as her," Ben concurred.

Chris nodded absently. "We need someone like…" he trailed off, staring at the front-page Features section of the _New York Times_. More specifically, his eyes dropped down to the article splashed across the front page boasting the title, "Shine Bright, Little Star" and a picture of a brunette, her physical stature miniscule amidst her cast-mates, but her talent larger than life even in the black and white of the photo. He had seen Rachel Berry perform before, and she had been absolutely mesmerizing.

A calculating frown played at the corners of his mouth as his clear, gray eyes sparkled, flitting over the content of the article, absorbing the words. Around him, the production team chattered, offering out their opinions towards the direction of the film.

"Hmmm…"

_And done. I hope you all enjoyed the prologue. As you can see, it was pretty much setting the stage for the story to come. This will definitely be a theme within the story – snippets of the movie interspersed with flashbacks – but the bulk of the plot and story will occur in real time. Next up, we will see how Chris Keller deals with his new casting problem and get a bit of a glimpse into Quinn's background and her life now. Rachel also makes an appearance as well. As always, let me know what you think!_

*ISP


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Once again, I do not own any of the characters represented in this fiction that are recognizable.

_Wow, I am floored by the response. Thanks to everyone who placed this story on their favorites or on story alert, and certainly thanks to the reviewers. Now that the prologue is over, the fun begins, and we rejoin our ladies in real time where they are set to soon collide._

_I hope you enjoy!_

CHAPTER 1

_**Lucy wasn't sure how long she had been stuck in her current predicament, but it had to be past the end of the school day. Still, after-school activities were bound to start soon, so she kept knocking against the locker door, hoping someone would come to her aid.**_

_** She heard footsteps approach and knocked louder. To her immense relief, the footsteps faltered and halted. The screeching sound as the locks were disengaged was music to Lucy's ears, and she burst into tears at the thankful flood of light as she was released from her prison.**_

"_**Oh my goodness! Are you okay?" **_

_**Before Lucy had time to respond, the melodic voice spoke again.**_

"_**I apologize. That is an unnecessary and irreverent question. Of course you're not okay. You wouldn't be stuck in a locker if you were okay. I gather you didn't come about this current residence on your own power. And you certainly wouldn't be crying if you were okay. Well you could, but those tears hardly seem like tears of mirth."**_

_** Lucy's eyes grew wide as she finally raised her gaze to stare into a pair of beautiful, dark chocolate brown orbs torn with amazement that someone and amusement at the sheer amount of words flooding from the tiny person in front of her.**_

_** "I'm okay," Lucy asserted softly. "It's nothing new. They're always mean to me. I'm used to it."**_

_** "That's barbaric!" The voice belonged to a petite brunette, barely over five feet tall. Lucy's breath was stolen from her throat. She had seen pretty girls, but this tiny person was beyond anyone she had ever encountered before. Shiny, sepia-colored hair, big brown eyes, and legs that went on forever. Dumbstruck, Lucy simply stared. **_

_**The other girl stood before her, swelled with indignation, her fists planted on her hips as though she were making some sort of declaration. "You haven't done anything to them!"**_

_** "Doesn't really stop them," Lucy countered. She ducked her head, murmuring almost softly to herself. "I just want to be left alone, to be invisible. But they won't let me."**_

_**Her brunette savior's lips turned downward in consternation. With a gentle hand, she reached out, tipping Lucy's chin upward. "Invisibility is for the mediocre," she proclaimed. "Someone as strong and resilient as you are should not settle for such mediocrity." The girl locked gazes with her for a moment before smiling. "You have very pretty eyes."**_

"_**Th-thank you," Lucy stammered. She was unused to such compliments. "You…you don't go here, do you?"**_

"_**I don't," the girl answered. "I actually go to McKinley. My mother teaches here. I'm just dropping off her dinner before she gets busy with Vocal Adrenaline. She often forgets to eat when they're so close to Sectionals and Regionals and all that. But no, I've never been subjected to the culture of Carmel. Although, I'm sure we have the same brand of uncouth ingrates. The personality of the adolescent boy doesn't vary much, but don't worry. I'm sure the people who are picking on you will one day be washing your car." She looked at the frizzy-haired girl before her and thought for a moment. Lucy continued to stare. She had never heard a single person speak so many words without taking a breath.**_

_**The girl smiled again. It was oddly comforting. "You look like you need reminding that karma will one day come back around on them." She ducked down, rummaging in her messenger bag adorned liberally with pink and gold stars.**_

"_**Here." **_

_** Lucy tilted her head as a keychain was pressed into her hand, a sparkly star dangling from the silver links. "A gold star?"**_

_** "They're a metaphor," the tiny, amazing creature explained. "One day the kids in this town will be stuck here, trying to relive their high school years because those years were the best of their lives, and you'll be somewhere bigger and better, shining brighter than they ever will."**_

_** It was the first gift someone other than her parents or sister had given her. She hugged it to her chest. "Thank you…"**_

_** "You're welcome," the girl answered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must take my leave before that vile, slimeball St. James hones onto my scent. I swear, he's like a bloodhound in more ways than one. I understand leeching onto talent, but honestly…" The last part was muttered beneath her breath almost absently as the girl disappeared around the corner.**_

_** "Wait!" Lucy called, but it was too late. The little brunette was out of range.**_

_** "I never got your name…"**_

"Quinn…"

A pale, slender finger, the nail expertly manicured and painted a pearl shade traced over the gold star inked into the inside of the wrist. She looked to her keys lying by her cell phone, the charm, faded from the years but still clearly a gold star, dangling from the loop. That day the little brunette had given it to her, she had never shown anyone or put it on her key ring in fear that one of her classmates would figure out its significance to her and use it to hurt her once again. It had stayed in her secret box until they had moved. Only then did she add the charm to her key ring where it had never left.

"Quinn…"

The finger moved down to the inscription weaving through the star on her wrist. 'Shine brighter,' it stated. Full lips turned downward in a thoughtful frown as the finger continued to trace over the tattoo.

"Quinn!"

Quinn Lucas started, cool hazel eyes shifting to the insistent call of her manager and best friend. "What?"

Declan Riley propped his chin on his fist, surveying his longtime friend with narrowed eyes, a stunning shade of light blue. "Where did you go then?"

Quinn chuckled, shaking her head. "Nowhere important."

He huffed, taking a sip of his iced tea. "I'm gonna take a stab in the dark and assume you haven't heard a word I've said?"

Quinn rolled her eyes, pulling the sleeve of her oversized sweater over her wrist, tilting her head to the imploring ice blue gaze. "No, Declan, I'm sorry."

Declan returned the eyeroll, gesturing to his BlackBerry. "That was Chris Keller."

Quinn tilted her head, picking at the remains of the blueberry muffin beside her plate. "What did he want? I'm not out of a job, am I?"

"Well, it's not you," Declan hedged. "He's recasting Jennifer Wolfe."

"Good," Quinn grumbled with a toss of her head at the mention of the woman Chris had chosen to play opposite her. She wasn't a fan of the former soap actress who embodied pretty much everything disparaging about their business right down to her bottle blonde hair and fake silicone tits. "Opportunistic hag." As Declan snorted his concurrence, she returned her attention to him.

"So who have they chosen?"

"Dunno," Declan answered, tossing his phone on the table and leaning back in his seat. "Chris said they were still working on it."

Quinn frowned, craning her head to the side. She noted the small throng of paparazzi posted across the street, lenses focused on her, intent on capturing this mundane moment in her everyday life.

"What do you think?"

Declan shrugged, running a hand through his curly black hair kept manageable by its relatively short length. "Chris has the pick of anyone in Hollywood," he surmised. "You can have anyone from Emma Watson playing opposite you to what's-her-name from that singing television show."

Quinn sighed. "You think this is worth it, D?"

Declan crossed one long leg over the other, fingers tapping against his thigh. "Controversial material, lesbian storyline, Christian Keller's name attached? This has Oscar written all over it." His gaze softened. "But on a less egotistical note? You have a chance to do something very important work, Q." He nodded once. "So yeah, I think it's worth it."

Quinn nodded, relaxing into her chair. "We do have something important to say, D," she concurred. "But with the wrong voices, it will just be shouting into an empty room."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Christian Keller stormed through the offices of Shaolin Studios until he reached the conference room. The writer/director looked determined like a man on a mission. In reality, he was at his wits end and completely haggard. He hadn't pulled an all-nighter since college but he had stayed awake, alternating between slugging back coffee and Red Bulls as he researched everything he could on one Rachel Barbra Berry. As he absorbed the information – and perhaps it was a byproduct of his severe lack of sleep – a gut feeling that stirred in his stomach. It was the same instincts that secured him an Oscar with his debut feature film, and they grew to epic proportions.

Throwing open the door, he marched straight up to the head of the conference table.

"Forget everyone else we've been considering," he declared, slapping a copy of the _New York Times _down, pointing insistently with his index finger. "I've found our leading lady."

Ben Brantley craned his neck, reading the name from the article. "Rachel Berry." He lifted his head, one eyebrow cocked questioningly. "The musical theatre chick? You want Rachel Berry to play opposite Quinn Lucas?"

Chris nodded firmly, fingers tapping against his chin as his mind whirled with the possibilities. "She's the one."

"Chris…" Skepticism laced the producer's tone. "She's a Broadway star who hasn't had any screen experience. You have your pick of any woman in Hollywood. Are you sure?"

"She won a Tony award in her Broadway debut," Chris pointed out. He seemed unfazed at the opposition.

Ben looked to the writer/director, scrutinizing him closely. "I don't know, Chris. Broadway's a far cry from Hollywood."

Chris looked to his production team, gray eyes twinkling. "I have a feeling."

Whatever protests arose immediately died on unspeaking lips. By now, everyone in Hollywood knew better than to second-guess a Christian Keller gut feeling. Ben Brantley eyed the young man across from him. Clear gray eyes burned with defiance and assurance. There was a set to Chris's shoulders, a firmness in his posture. It was pretty obvious the young writer/director had made up his mind. Ben was very well aware of the fact that they were taking a very high risk with casting a relative no one in Hollywood circles. But, again, that gut feeling had secured Chris Keller multiple awards in three short years. Ben nodded his head.

"Make it happen then."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel Berry sat cross-legged on the bed of her New York loft, flipping idly through the scripts her agent had dropped off throughout the week. Inwardly, she smirked. A good dozen prospective jobs lay before her, and she had her pick of the productions they represented. A steady rumble distracted her for a moment, and she smiled as her gray tabby cat, Reno – named after Reno Sweeney (what could she say, Sutton Foster followed her everywhere) of the musical _Anything Goes_ – leaped onto the bed and into her lap.

"So what do you think, Reno?" Rachel posed. "The troubled heroine in the gritty, straight play or the ingénue in the rock opera?

Reno eyed the choices before turning around pointedly and settling herself on a pillow. Rachel giggled.

"Nothing suits your fancy either, huh?"

Rachel sighed, returning her attention to the scripts before her. It was overwhelming to believe that these options wished to have her name attached to their productions, but she wanted something different, something that could really expand her horizons as a performer.

_Soy un perdedor  
><em>_I'm a loser, baby, so why don't you kill me?  
><em>_Soy un perdedor  
><em>_I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?_

Rachel glanced down at her phone in confusion at the unfamiliar song. She rolled her eyes as she saw the picture of her agent adorning the screen. Santana must have messed with her ringtones again. She answered the call, one eye still on the scripts before her.

"Hey, Don."

"Hey, Rachel." Her agent's rich baritone filtered through the speaker. "Have you looked at any of the scripts I sent over?"

"Yeah. Nothing's popping out at me," Rachel answered, lifting the page of a script for a guest spot as a dying patient on one of those medical shows. "I'm not too sold on any of them."

"Good."

Rachel frowned, recoiling back to look at her phone. He shouldn't be pleased that she was being so picky and he certainly shouldn't be pleased she was currently unemployed. "How precisely is that _good_?"

Her agent, Don Garrett, sounded wholly triumphant as he crowed into the phone. "Because I literally just got an offer that you if you refuse, I will shoot you."

Rachel's brow furrowed. She wasn't sure she liked where this was going. "Okay?"

"Chris Keller wants you."

Well, she surely wasn't expecting that. "As in…?"

"Yes, that Chris Keller," Don reiterated, the smug tone not leaving his voice. "The Chris Keller who won at Sundance at the tender age of nineteen, the Chris Keller named 'The Visionary of a Generation' by _Time_, and the Chris Keller that has had a blockbuster film every year for the past three years. Yes, my dear, _that_ Chris Keller." Don let out a whoop of laughter, easily imagining the paycheck he and his client would accrue.

Rachel's breath caught in her throat. "Oh."

"He wants you in his latest movie," Don explained. "The chick he originally cast didn't work out, so he's looking for someone else. Don't know how he came across you, but he did, and he called me asking if you were available. Of course, I informed him you were currently looking for another project. Expect a call within the hour."

Eyes wide, Rachel didn't have enough brainpower to formulate a word beyond a single syllable. "_Oh_."

"Rachel," Don's voice grew serious. "You wanted a medium to expand your acting profile. This is your chance. Nothing will catapult you better than a Chris Keller project."

Still slightly dazed, Rachel nodded. "Yeah…sure, Don."

"Make me proud, babe!" was his parting before the dial tone sounded in her ear.

Rachel stared at the phone in her hand. Eyes wide at the revelation, she scrolled though her messages until she found the contact she needed, sending a quick message.

_CODE RED! Get here NOW!_

She took in a deep breath, letting it out again. Okay. So Chris Keller was expected to call. Well, that wouldn't happen right away. Alright. She had time to compose herself.

_All eyes on me when I walk in  
><em>_No question that this girl's a ten  
><em>_Don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful  
><em>_Don't hate me 'cause I'm beautiful_

Rachel jumped at the sound of her default ringtone and glanced down at the screen. It was a 323 area code.

Shit.

She took a couple of deep breaths. Game face, Berry. Do NOT screw this up.

"Rachel Berry."

"Hi, Miss Berry, my name is Christian Keller. I hope your agent forwarded my message to you."

"Yes, Mr. Keller, Don said to expect your call. It's Rachel, please."

"Chris then." Chris Keller didn't waste any time and jumped right to the heart of the matter. "Rachel, have you heard anything about the next movie I'm currently filming?"

"I have," Rachel answered. "From what I understand, it is the story of a lesbian Marine following the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell."

"That's it in a nutshell," Chris concurred. "Well, to be frank then, I would like you in my film, Rachel."

Don had prepped her for the announcement, but actually hearing it for the first time from the source was a bit overwhelming to say the least. "Are you sure?" She slapped her forehead. Nice, Berry. That was stupid.

Chris Keller chuckled. "You'd be surprised how often I've been asked that in the last couple of days," he answered.

"Mr. Keller, this is highly irregular," Rachel countered. "I apologize if I sound overly skeptical or ignorant but in my experience, one is simply not offered a role in a blockbuster film on a whim. Especially not an actress of my burgeoning status with a slightly limited fan constituency."

"There is no one else," Chris answered. He sounded quite firm. "I want you."

Rachel's head snapped up as the door to her loft opened and Brittany and Santana burst in. She pointed to the couch, imploring them to sit as she continued her pacing before the living room couch. Two sets of eyes followed her path as she paced in front of them.

"Uh, surely you mean like in a small role? A background character?"

Chris chuckled. "No, Rachel. I want you to play the second female protagonist, the Marine's romantic interest."

Wow, this was heavy. "Again, Chris, are you sure?"

Chris Keller, bless his soul, was patient with her skepticism. "Rachel, I know this isn't normal and I understand your skepticism. All I know is that I trust my instincts as a director and as a writer. My instincts tell me you are exactly what I need."

"Well, Chris, if that's a line, it surely has me sold."

"Glad to hear it, Rachel." Chris grinned. "And if that isn't incentive enough, we're willing to pay you…"

As Chris named a figure, Rachel dropped heavily on the sofa between her two friends. She could only let out a squeak. "Oh wow. You can't be sure about _that_."

Chris laughed. He could already tell working with Rachel Berry was going to be an adventure. "Nothing about this proposition is uncertain, I can tell you that honestly, Rachel. I'll have the studio get in touch with your agent concerning the logistics. If you can get out to LA by next week as soon as you can, that would be perfect."

"LA by the end of the week," Rachel recited. "I'll have my assistant get right on that." Rachel shot Brittany a significant look, and the blonde nodded, moving to where Rachel's laptop lay charging on the coffee table.

"Don't worry about flights or anything, we'll send a jet. It's the least we can do, right?"

"If that's the least, I eagerly anticipate something more significant," Rachel joked, finally regaining a bit of her equilibrium. "I'll have my assistant call you when scheduling is set."

"Awesome. I will see you in LA, Rachel."

"Thank you, Chris," Rachel found herself pleased to have corralled the breathlessness in her voice. "I look forward to seeing you soon."

She looked to her best friend and manager as she punched the touch screen, ending the call. Santana looked bewildered, having heard only half of the conversation. She could certainly surmise at least a part of what had just occurred. Santana stood, moving in front of Rachel, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"Berry. What. The FUCK. Just. Happened?"

Rachel smirked at Santana's characteristic eloquence, thankful she had the Latina around to keep her sane. Don nearly had a conniption when she insisted on hiring Santana as her manager but there was no one she trusted more with her well being than Santana Lopez. Not surprisingly, the fiery Latina turned out to be supremely gifted. And of course, where Santana went, Brittany followed, so Rachel thought it only prudent to make the blonde her personal assistant. For all her ditzy ways, Brittany was a whiz at organization. Rachel shuddered to think of what would happen if Brittany ever quit because no other person would be able to decipher the coding system the blonde used to keep track of Rachel's daily life. To anyone else, it made absolutely no sense whatsoever. Naturally, Brittany understood her system just fine.

Rachel bit her lip. "Do you want the long version or the short version?"

Santana crossed her arms, one meticulously manicured eyebrow inching upward. "Give me the version I'll understand the best."

Rachel nodded. "Chris Keller wants me in his movie."

"No shit?"

"No shit," Rachel affirmed. She winced. Santana's more crass parlance was rubbing off on her.

Santana whistled through her teeth. "Anything with Chris Keller's name attached is almost a guaranteed blockbuster and an Oscar nomination. You'd be halfway to your EGOT, midge. What's the movie about?"

"An American Marine living an out life with the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell," Rachel answered. "I would be playing the Marine's love interest."

"And you're okay with that?"

Rachel cocked "Why wouldn't I be? I have–"

"I know, I know," Santana cut her off before Rachel could go on her PFLAG rant. "You have two gay fathers and relish any opportunity to advocate the rights of all LGBT individuals. And you know I love Daddy and Poppa B. I'm just saying it's something else to play a gay character."

Rachel smiled. "I appreciate the concern, but yes, I'm fine with that." Rachel frowned thoughtfully. "I have always believed sexuality is fluid; my flow has just been of the more heterosexual variety."

"You know, that's the movie Quinn Lucas is set to star in," Santana commented. "You'll be swapping spit with the most sought-after television star in America." She leered. "Nice."

"Quinn Lucas…" Rachel breathed out. "I will be starring in a movie with Quinn Lucas."

"She's super hot," Brittany commented idly, searching through her phone calendar for the closest possible date Rachel could get to the coast.

"Looks aside, Brittany, she's accrued quite a reputation in the few movies that she's worked," Rachel countered. "She's not unkind but intensely private, very reclusive, and very aloof. They call her the Ice Queen."

"_Calmaté_, Tiny," Santana soothed. "I'm pretty sure the rumors aren't true and she really doesn't eat her costars for greeting her without explicit permission."

"Not helping, Santana," Rachel murmured weakly.

"Rachel!" Santana moved closer to the girl she had known since the fifth grade. "Dammit, Berry, you are a professional! And if you're gonna let some ice queen bitch ruin of the dream you've had since you were four, Barbra Streisand would slap your ass silly."

The pep talked worked, and Santana stepped back as the familiar steel glint encompassed Rachel's dark gaze, the little diva sat a bit straighter. "You're right, Santana. You are absolutely right. Regardless of the tenuous feelings I may have for Quinn Lucas, feelings that are for all I know completely unfounded since I have never personally met the woman, I should be able to conduct myself in a professional, respectful manner. She deserves the benefit of the doubt."

"Yeah, she's totally gonna be okay, San," Brittany giggled, her hands whirling as she moved appointments around to open up the end of the week. "She's saying a lot of really big words really, really fast." She turned her attention to Rachel.

"Okay, moving your interview with Paul Wontorek for his _Show People_ segment up to tomorrow. That leaves just the concert benefit for Thursday. We can be out to California by Friday."

Rachel nodded. "Book it and call Don with those plans. That way he can meet us out there." She turned to her two best friends. "Let's give Hollywood hell."

"That's my girl, midge," Santana smirked fondly. At Brittany's pout, she nudged the blonde's hip. "My _other_ girl…"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Across the United States on a private Santa Monica beach, Quinn Lucas walked along the pale sands. She was afforded the luxury of isolation, her nearest neighbor about a mile down the coast. The slight wind ruffled her short, tousled bob as she meandered along after her dog bounding through the sand in front of her. In her hand was the latest issue of _Vogue_, her face splashed across the cover.

**JUST LIKE OLD HOLLYWOOD**

_Quinn Lucas is bringing back the old-time glitz and glamour_

That was the title of the article. Quinn wasn't normally one for indulging in vanity, but even she could admit that _Vogue_ was a very big deal. They had gone with an old Hollywood look to the article and photo shoot, mimicking some of the more classic styles of such as Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly. She looked elegant and glamorous, certainly a far cry from comely, frumpy Lucy Fabray.

She wondered if anyone back in Akron recognized her as mousy Lucy Fabray, the girl they so callously dubbed Lucy Caboosey. She wondered what ever happened the tiny brunette who had comforted her so long ago. If fate had been kinder to her than it had to Lucy, the girl had made it out of the small town with no problems. It would have been one of fate's greatest travesties had the tiny girl had remained stuck in the Lima Bean. She wondered if they would have been friends if the Fabrays hadn't relocated to San Diego for Russell's job. Maybe she dwelled a bit too much on her short time at Carmel, but Quinn had very little people offer her any kindness. The brunette she remembered the clearest, and the mystery of the girl's name had stuck with her all these years.

The big chocolate Labrador traipsed up to her, laying his head on Quinn's lap. She sighed, running her fingers through the soft fur. She laughed as he rolled to his side, his legs kicking as he found a comfortable spot. She swore that Charlie was a human in a dog's body with the way his mannerisms often mimicked something she had seen from her friends and family.

Charlie wuffled, laying one paw on Quinn's knee, his big brown eyes imploring her steadily.

"Yeah, Charlie, I know. But you don't count, big guy. You'll be with me as long as I keep the Beggin' Strips coming."

Charlie gave her a look that indicated her the assertion was correct. Dog, like mistress, had a severe weakness for bacon. He tempered the gesture with a soft, affectionate head butt to Quinn's chest.

The blonde hunkered down, placing kisses to her beloved companion's fur. "Lucky for you, there will always be Beggin' Strips, buddy."

Charlie gave a bark of approval, laying his head back down on Quinn's knee. She laughed, turning her eyes to the waning sun disappearing down into the horizon.

_Yeah, I'm chilling on a dirt road  
><em>_Laid back, swerving like I'm George Jones  
><em>_Smoke rolling out the window  
><em>_An ice-cold beer sitting in the console_

Quinn glanced down to her phone as her ringtone sounded. Sliding her thumb across the screen, she raised the device to her ear. "Hello."

"Hey, Quinn, Chris Keller."

Quinn rubbed an idle hand against Charlie's belly. "Hey, Chris, what's up?"

"I'm sure you've heard, but Jen Wolfe wasn't working out for us, so we recast her role."

Quinn hummed her affirmation. "I did hear that. Declan told me."

Chris huffed out a chuckle. "I figured he would. Well, anyway, we found someone fairly quick, and she'll be here by next week when we start shooting again."

"And who is this mystery woman?" Quinn ventured, slightly apprehensive to whom Chris could have found on such short notice.

"Rachel Berry," Chris answered.

The name wasn't even remotely familiar to Quinn. "Yeah, I've never heard of her."

"She's a theatre implant," Chris explained. "Won a Tony in her Broadway debut."

Quinn frowned. Wonderful, a green starlet with no prior film experience. This surely was bound to be interesting. "You sure about this, Chris?"

Chris snorted. "Why is everyone asking me that?" His tone held wry amusement. He hastened to assure his lead. "I have a good feeling about this, Quinn."

Quinn merely smiled, aware he couldn't see the gesture. "Keep on with that feeling, Chris. It hasn't steered us wrong yet."

"Thanks, Quinn. I'll see you Monday."

"Bye, Chris." Ending the call, she looked down at Charlie, scratching behind his ears. "I'll tell you this much, buddy," she drawled. "This is certainly a lot more interesting that the set of _Queen_ ever was."

Charlie only grumbled his agreement.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel Berry had certainly heard of Christian Keller. There wasn't anyone in the entertainment business that hadn't. With the amount of success Christian Keller had accumulated in the sort time since his entrance, A-listers were clamoring to be part of his casting short-list. Rachel wasn't exactly sure what she had done to get a direct call from Chris Keller, but she certainly wasn't about to second-guess it now.

She felt like a tourist, but she couldn't help but take in the sights of Hollywood as her car cruised down the freeway on the way to the Shaolin Studios lot where Chris Keller and the production team was set to meet her. Between the luxury SUV she was currently seated in and the jet the studio had sent to transport her, Brittany, and Santana to LA, she surely felt like a princess. The Range Rover came to a stop right outside the lot door. Wasting no time, the driver exited his side, coming around to her door and escorting her out. Taking a moment to compose herself, Rachel took a deep breath, making her way to the production team of _Duty and Honor_.

Christian Keller was in the front of the small group, and Rachel took the time to take in the famed director. He was fairly tall, just a shade shy of six-feet, and moderately good-looking. The most remarkable thing about him, however, was the sparkle of undeniable intelligence in his pale gray eyes framed by a pair of wayfarer-shaped spectacles. He was nothing like what she expected from a big-time Hollywood director. With his brown chinos, checkered blue shirt, and navy blue blazer, Chris Keller looked like he would be more at home in a university lecture hall than behind a camera. Still, Rachel knew better than to underestimate him. This could very well be the man to send her into a whole other realm of superstardom.

The two stood toe-to-toe, Rachel looking up the height distance to the sparkling gray eyes. Chris smiled, radiating a warmth and openness that immediately put her at ease.

"Miss Berry," Chris greeted her, one hand outstretched. "Welcome to Hollywood."

Rachel grinned, taking the offering.

Welcome to Hollywood indeed.

_And there you go! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Up next, Quinn does a little research on her new leading lady to interesting results. Rachel and Quinn will also meet, and it's quite the experience. Plus, as they begin filming _Duty and Honor_, we get a bit of the story about American Marine Sloane Gerard. Hope you all stick around until then!_

_*ISP_


	3. Chapter 2

_Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter. I really am flattered by the compliments. This chapter, we get a little more into Lucy's transition to Quinn, Rachel's first day on the set, and a couple of scenes from _Duty and Honor_. Quinn also does some research on her new costar because she can't shake this feeling of familiarity._

_And I feel like I have to explain this to avoid any confusion. The snippets of the movie that appear within the chapters don't necessarily correspond to the timeline of the story, i.e. Rachel and Quinn aren't necessarily filming the scenes at the same time they are appearing in the chapters. Basically, I'm using the movie snippets to emphasize a point in the plot. There will be times where Rachel and Quinn are filming a scene in "Real Time" but generally, it's a plot device to parallel the movie story with this story._

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 2<span>

_**Lucy Fabray saw the Fabray family's move to San Diego as a chance to start completely over. In San Diego, no one knew who Lucy Fabray was. Better yet, no one knew who **_**Lucy Caboosey**_** was. It had taken hard work, patience, and a buttload of her father's money, but it had definitely paid off.**_

_** The first day of her sophomore year, Lucy looked at herself in her bedroom mirror. For the first time, she did not cringe at what she saw. A once overweight, frumpy body had slimmed and firmed, honed from three months of relentless exercise and healthy eating. She touched her nose, fresh from its rhinoplasty, rotating her head from side to side. **_

_**Lucy reached up, tightening the neat ponytail at the back of her skull, the strands flowing down her back now colored a sunny blonde. Her hazel eyes uncovered thanks to contacts, raked over her reflection, taking in the baby blue, white, and navy blue cheerleading uniform. Lucy would have never considered cheerleading in the past but the new Lucy saw it serving a dual purpose: keep herself in shape and solidify a position at the top of the social pyramid. Call her shallow, but it was a matter of survival; she learned that at Carmel. Naturally, she wasn't the peppiest person around but she could sure as hell fake it if it meant she would never be stuffed in another tuna fish-smelling locker again.**_

_**She shrugged. Go Warriors.**_

_**Grabbing her backpack, littered with patches depicting images and symbols of what was currently cool at the moment. Currently, her backpack boasted a Volcom diamond, a sunset of the California coast, a button that stated "I don't care what you say, Pluto is still a planet!" and a scarlet and gold nautical star prominent on the front pocket. Lucy trumped down the stairs, responding to the text from her cheer captain Cassidy Holland, also her ride for the morning. She slipped her arms through the matching jacket, fastening the buttons up. She slid into the kitchen, grabbing a muffin and filling her water bottle up with Gatorade from the fridge.**_

_**Judy Fabray looked up as her daughter breezed through the kitchen, hearing the insistent honking of a car outside. She was surprised on how persistent her daughter was in changing her image, but Judy couldn't be anything but supportive. She beamed as her slim, newly blonde Lucy grabbed a muffin. Judy held out a brown bag, kissing her daughter on the cheek.**_

_** "Oh, Luce, sweetie, you look wonderful!"**_

"_**Thanks, Mom," Lucy straightened, steeling her spine and gaze as she rotated towards the door. "Call me Quinn."**_

Quinn Lucas was used to turning heads. Ever since Lucy became Quinn, there was something about the girl that drew eyes to her. Perhaps it was the façade of cold aloofness, perhaps it was the aura of mystery surrounding her that no one had uncovered, perhaps it was the fact that she represented something completely untouchable to the mere human. Either way, Quinn Lucas was never bereft of attention.

As she cruised down the streets of Hollywood towards the Shaolin Studios lot, that effect was magnified tenfold with the car she maneuvered through the city. When she made it big, Quinn swore she wasn't going to be one of those stars who made some lavish, ostentatious purchase to show her emergence into the Hollywood elite. All those intentions flew out the proverbial window the moment she found out just how much money she had accumulated during the course of a 22-episode season. And her first big purchase? A Ferrari. A Ferrari California to be exact. Yeah, she was very well aware just how much dough she was dropping on a car, but no judging. It was validation for everyone who urged her to pursue a "normal" profession.

Yeah, whatever.

Quinn smirked as the guard to the lot checked her in at the gate then craned his neck as he let her through, watching the car zoom down the path. The formula was pretty simple: Hot Blonde + Hot Car = Epic Hotness

Quinn pulled into her parking spot on the studio lot, relishing in the Ferrari's superior handling. Grabbing her bag, coffee, and script, she exited the convertible and headed to her trailer. Today would be the first day she and her new costar shared a scene. It remained to be seen whether or not this would actually work. Still, she trusted Chris Keller. If he said it would, it would. She had faith in that.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Minutes earlier, a Range Rover SUV had entered the same gate, depositing Rachel, Santana, and Brittany onto the Shaolin lot. The trio made their way to before wandering back to explore their surroundings.

"Yeah, Berry, we sure as hell ain't in Kansas anymore."

"Speaking of," Rachel ventured absently. "Should I perhaps but a bug in Stephen Schwartz's ear that I am interested in playing Elphaba in the near future?"

Santana recoiled back in surprise. "What? Seriously?" She waved to the movie lot. "We're standing in the middle of a major production studio's movie lot while you're preparing to star in a blockbuster directed by the biggest name in Hollywood right now alongside America's current sweetheart, and you're thinking about your next job." As was her habit, Santana shifted to Spanish, beginning a rather emphatic tirade. "_Estás loca, a lo mejor con un golpe en la cabeza recobraras el sentido…_"

"I'm just saying," Rachel defended, halting the bilingual rant. "You of all people know this business is a constant search for the next job. Every role is temporary, every contract runs out."

Santana snorted, still muttering slightly under her breath. Brittany turned to Rachel. "That's the one where you'd be painted green, right?"

Rachel nodded. "Yes, Brittany, I would aim to play the green-skinned witch."

Brittany frowned. "I get why people would be mean to her," she noted, twirling a lock of hair negligently around her finger. "Green's kind of a sicky color. Maybe if she was yellow, people might like her better. Yellow's a happy color, like sunshine and ducks."

Rachel grinned, reaching out to draw the third member of their trio into a side hug. "That reminds me, we should go feed the ducks at the park by the hotel later."

Brittany bounced as she rotated, throwing her arms around the petite brunette. "Awesome. Maybe they'll make San happier too. She's been super grumpy since we flew out here."

"I don't like flying," the Latina grumbled in return. "Something about being so high up scares the friggin' crap out of me." Something caught her eye, and Santana threw out an arm, pointing ahead. "Hey, check it out."

The trio stepped back as a sleek, wine red convertible literally roared into the parking lot, screeching to a stop in front of a sign designating the parking spot for Quinn Lucas.

"There's your lady love, Tiny." Santana whistled through her teeth as the blonde actress gracefully exited her car, slinging the strap to a messenger bag over her shoulder, grasping the thick script in one hand, a travel cup of coffee in the other. She embodied Hollywood chic with the large, mirrored sunglasses hiding her eyes from view, her comfortable wardrobe that toed the line between casually stylish and fashionably indifferent, and the aura of her commanding, magnetic presence drawing everyone in. Quinn Lucas shut the door to her convertible, locking the vehicle with a negligent push of her thumb before striding off towards her trailer.

"Damn, that's a nice car," Santana muttered. "She _would_ be driving a freaking Ferrari."

Brittany glanced back at the car as they continued on. "The name even _sounds_ expensive."

They stopped at the set where Chris Keller and company said they would all meet right before they were set to shoot their first scene. The large area was set up to look like a town square of Greensborough, Michigan, Sloane Gerard's fictional Midwestern hometown. A large gazebo was situated in the middle of the set with shops dotting around the street. Everything looked authentic and real, right down to the fake grass – immaculately manicured, of course – surrounding the gazebo.

Rachel looked around, taking in the set in all of its Hollywood elegance, the bright lights eclipsing those of Broadway just by a tad. "Santana…?"

Her manager had her head on a swivel. "Ye-ah?"

"Pinch me," Rachel breathed.

Santana's brow furrowed in confusion. "Huh?"

"Pinch me!"

Santana scowled. "The fuck? Why?"

"So I can be sure this isn't a dream. That's normally how the exchange goes…OW!" Rather than follow Rachel's direction and pinch her, the Latina had rolled her eyes, reaching towards Rachel's chest and twisting the closest nipple.

Rachel rubbed the abused body part, glaring at her best friend. "Yeah, that's definitely not where you're supposed to pinch."

"And I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to be treated with a two-hour dissertation on something that normally takes a sentence, but that's an unfortunate byproduct when you're around," Santana snarked back.

Always the mediator, Brittany stepped in before the pair could go off on one of their many bickering marathons and wrapped her arms around the Latina. "C'mon, San. We should grab Ray's tea while she's doing her stuff. I think I saw that Blue Bottle drip coffee you like so much too."

At the mention of her favorite coffee company – one that she often made a thirty-plus minute trip out to Brooklyn for – Santana brightened, following Brittany towards the craft service area, leaving Rachel to make her way to the hair and makeup trailer.

Not for the first time, Rachel sincerely doubted her own sanity, wondering what the hell possessed her to hire Santana Lopez as her manager.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Minutes later, fully dressed and ready for her scene, Rachel stood with Santana and Brittany beside Chris Keller and his production team as they waited for Quinn Lucas to get out of wardrobe.

Santana turned to Rachel, a small smirk playing across her features. "You know your lines?"

"Yes, Santana," Rachel responded absently, taking a sip of her herbal tea (with a touch of honey; habits were hard to break). "That is the benefit of a near-photographic memory such as the one I possess."

Santana smiled evilly. She may have grown out of the bullying she had quite the proclivity for during their younger years but Santana never missed a chance to mess with Rachel a little bit. It served the diva well, gave her a bit of iron to her chin. "Are you sure?"

Rachel rolled her eyes, responding exasperatedly, "Yes."

"Are you positive?" Santana pressed. "Because, you know, you wouldn't want to mess up a completely awesome chance to send the three of us into a life of luxury and excess…I mean, I could totally see me and Britts rollin' down Rodeo in a swank-ass Ferrari too." She turned to her girlfriend. "Whattya say, babe, light blue to match your eyes?"

Rachel whirled to her best friend, fists planted on her hips, dark eyes glittering dangerously. Her nerves were fried as was. "Santana!"

Santana crossed her arms, her expression stopping just short of a pout. "This time difference has seriously taken away your sense of humor, _estrella_."

Brittany giggled, draping herself across the Latina, laying her chin atop Santana's head. "Stop being mean to her, San," she chastised. "Ray looks like she's about to go kaboom. That would really screw things up. We kinda need her 'cause you can't act…like, _at all_."

"Can so," Santana argued.

Brittany shook her head. "No way. You may try to be all touchy and prickly, but anyone can see you're fluffy like a marshmallow or Mr. Duck."

Anyone one else would have been subjected to Santana's fiercest look. But it was Brittany…She looked at Rachel, seeing the little diva taking in her first big movie set, a soft smile lighting up her pretty features. Aw, what the hell? It wasn't like she was fooling either of her girls anyway.

"Hey, Tiny?"

"Yes, Santana?"

"I'm proud of you, you know."

Rachel beamed, leaning over to bump shoulders with her long time best friend. "Yeah, Santana, I do know."

Santana nodded, adopting a slight scowl. Just so long as they were all very aware: she was _still_ a BAMF on any given day.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn exited the wardrobe trailer, clad in the costume for the scene. As she made her way to the set, she slipped the olive green jacket on over the black, v-neck shirt molded to her leanly muscular frame. Fixing the collar, she pushed up her sleeves to lie right beneath her forearm, showing off the military-grade watch. Her costume was accessorized with a slim silver chain with an oval St. Christopher medallion paired with the crest of the Marine Corps resting in the dip of her shirt collar. They were going for the world-weary, hardened veteran persona for Sloane, and it was evident in the costuming. In many ways, Quinn felt like her character: world-weary and hardened to the world around her. Running a hand through her short hair, Quinn sighed heavily, striding on set.

Immediately, she spotted her new leading lady. Rachel Berry stood with Chris and the production team, a slender Latina, and a tall blonde. She was dressed in her costume for their scene in a light rose long-sleeved shirt layered with a black tank top. Quinn cocked an eyebrow as she noticed Rachel's slender legs, ones seemed way too long to be on such a petite body, encased in a pair of tight, skinny jeans, cute gray and black flats finishing the ensemble. Her dark hair was arranged in a side braid, held back by a headband. Well, one thing was certain, she wouldn't have to fake the physical attraction. The girl was…_adorable_.

Quinn smirked, observing her new costar from afar. It was obvious Rachel was nervous. There was a tension to her posture, an anticipation that seemed to make the tiny body vibrate. It seemed the girl had a healthy amount of fear in her. The slightly sick part of Quinn deemed that fact good. It would be a good sign if Rachel Berry could compartmentalize that fear and nervousness and still be able to perform. Well, time to make her entrance, she supposed. Squaring her shoulders, Quinn sauntered towards the group.

xxx-xxx-xxx

"Ah, there she is!"

Rachel turned her head to see Quinn Lucas heading their way and shuffled slightly, biting down the urge to fidget. She had to admit, she was a fan of the television star. One of the things she most admired was the way Quinn Lucas seemed to convey so much beyond her spoken lines in her subtle body language. Rachel took a deep breath as her counterpart approached, a definite swagger to her long, unhurried strides. For the first time in a long time, Rachel was suitably intimidated. Quinn radiated such a commanding aura that it was difficult not to cower slightly in her presence.

Rachel swallowed hard. Physically, Quinn was stunning. Tall and slender, she had a radiance about her that was undeniable. She glided towards them, a graceful swan amidst ungainly ducklings, pulsing with confidence and that Ice Queen vibe she had built quite a reputation for.

Chris swept an arm towards the blonde as she stopped a few paces in front of the group. Quinn's eyes were uncovered for the first time, and Rachel found herself ensnared by a pair of stunning hazel spheres the perfect mix of green, gold, and brown. Fighting a natural mannerism to tilt her head, Rachel gazed curiously into the beautiful multi-colored irises. Normally, one could see so much about another person if one looked in their eyes. With Quinn Lucas, there was nothing. It was like there was an iron curtain barring her from the woman behind.

"Quinn Lucas, Rachel Berry."

Snapped from her observations, Rachel cleared her throat, willing her voice not to come out as a squeak. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Lucas."

Quinn grasped the extended hand, not speaking for a beat. Finally, she offered a twitch of the mouth that Rachel supposed masqueraded as a smile.

"Quinn, please."

Rachel nodded. "Rachel then. I'm looking forward to working with you."

Quinn offered a short nod in return but didn't reciprocate verbally. Chris looked to his two leads hesitantly. He knew that Quinn wasn't the most open and welcoming person, so it was difficult to gauge how receptive she was to her new leading lady. Inwardly he shrugged. Well, they had time to cultivate that comfort level. With a smile, he motioned back to the set.

"Alright, ladies, now that you've met, let's make some magic."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn didn't place much weight in first impressions, but she had to admit that the woman before her was amusing. Rachel Berry was obviously out of her comfort zone, indicated in the uncertainty in her posture, but Quinn could see that she hid it well. As she took her mark, standing a bit off to the side, Quinn continued to observe her new costar. The petite Broadway starlet was chatting with the two women Quinn had seen with her earlier. Quinn had never seen a pair so different. The Latina wasn't much taller than Rachel and she stood with her arms crossed, one hip jutted out almost defiantly. A scowl marred otherwise exotically beautiful face. By contrast, the tall blonde practically bounced in place a wide grin stretching across her pretty features. Idly, Quinn wondered who the two were in relation to Rachel.

A shout pierced her ruminations, and she looked to find Chris striding towards his chair. "Alright, everyone, let's do this."

Quinn cocked an eyebrow as she watched Rachel close her eyes and take a deep breath. As she let it out, the brunette rolled her head to one side, then the other. When those milk chocolate-colored spheres fluttered open again, Rachel was a completely different person. The hesitancy and trepidation had melted away from her posture she confidently strode to her mark. This wasn't the timid guppy being thrown into the shark pool. This was a seasoned performer who tackled a medium some might argue embodied the purity of the acting experience.

Around them, the crew bustled, setting up for the scene. Camera's moved to take their spots; microphones were lofted into the air. Every inch of the space had people occupying it in one way or another. It was organized chaos, but it was glorious. Voices rang throughout the set, a cacophony of noise that melded together.

"Places!"

"Marker!"

"Take 1."

"Camera 1, ready?"

"Hey, Mick, a bit to the right…yeah, that's good."

"Quiet on set!"

Chris Keller crossed one leg over the other, eyes fixated on the monitor in front of him. "ACTION!"

_The smells emanating from the door drew her in like a moth to flame, and before she knew it, Sloane had eclipsed the threshold, hovering by the tables, looking at the displays. Everything looked so…good._

_"You know, they taste even better than they look."_

_Sloane's head snapped up, and she found herself staring into a pair of brown eyes the richest shade of milk chocolate. She felt her jaw sag, her vision panning out to take in the gorgeous face and flowing, sepia-colored hair._

_"But, you know, I am kind of biased." The woman had her arms braced on the surface of the display case, her chin resting atop them. "Can't very well say my own baking is bad." She tapped the glass to the case. "Can I get you anything?"_

_Sloane started from the beauty-induced coma. "Oh, uh, sorry. I was just curious." She gestured weakly to the sign outside the door. "This is new. Mike Brown's used to be here."_

_The brunette-locked head tilted slowly to the side and a prominent nose scrunched up cutely. "Yeah, but then Mike won the lottery then decided to retire to Coco Beach." Her face relaxed into a small smile, the effect like slowly melting chocolate. "Can't say I really blame him."_

_"Oh…yeah…" Sloane murmured lamely. "I, uh, didn't know that. It's been awhile since I've been back here." She stuck out a hand. "Sloane Gerard."_

_"Mia St. Claire." Mia reached over the glass top to shake the offering. "And eight years, five months, and twenty-two days to be exact," Mia recited. At Sloane's amused expression, Mia shrugged. "People talk when the prodigal daughter returns."_

_"Great," Sloane mumbled, eyes dropping down, hands sliding deeper into her pockets. "That's exactly what I didn't want to happen."_

_Again, that slow melting smile made an appearance as Mia arched an eyebrow. "Might have done you better not to have waltzed into town for the first time in eight years with the uniform then, huh?"_

_Unwittingly, Sloane returned the smile. It was nothing more than a mere quirk of the lips, but it was more than she had offered anyone since she had been back._

"_Yeah, I guess so."_

"CUT!"

Chris sounded wholly delighted. "Ladies, that was excellent." He rotated around the set, signaling to the camera crew. "I kind of want to get a few different angles with this one, but that was great."

Quinn looked to her costar, watching as the tiny brunette was swarmed with hair and makeup people touching her up for the next take. She had to admit Chris was right. That certainly was excellent. Rachel had embodied a character that was equal parts intriguing and engagingly adorable. She retained an aura of mystery about Mia St. Claire that made Quinn – as Sloane – want to uncover more behind the small smiles and the twinkling brown eyes.

There was an effortless, unforced chemistry that was lacking with Jennifer Wolfe. Rachel was a natural, engaging and open, unconsciously putting Quinn instantly at ease and coaxing just the right amount of reaction from the blonde. Jennifer had played Mia modestly seductive, which immediately put Quinn – and consequently Sloane – on edge. Rachel went a subtler route, gently teasing rather than coyly flirting. The result was a connection that laid down the foundation for something much more substantial, exactly what the scene was supposed to accomplish.

As the crew settled, lenses focused again on the set, Quinn took her mark, ready to immerse herself into the character of the hardened veteran Marine. This time, when Rachel Berry caught her eye, Quinn offered her a short nod.

"ACTION!"

xxx-xxx-xxx

As the morning melded to afternoon, then to evening, the cast and crew of _Duty and Honor_ left the Shaolin lot very satisfied with the work accomplished. They had made wonderful headway, quickly reshooting the scenes featuring Jennifer Wolfe and making progress on a few new scenes. At the end of the day, the consensus was unanimous: the Broadway starlet was a hit. Rachel's take on the character had brought a refreshing dynamic to Mia St. Claire that had effectively charmed most who had witnessed her work.

Despite her earlier trepidation, Rachel had surprised many of those who doubted the Broadway implant would survive the change of mediums, Quinn included. She was both prepared and extremely professional, effortlessly delivering lines and hitting marks. Quinn and Rachel hadn't shared any more scenes, but Quinn had stuck around to see the reshoots of the scenes they had already filmed with Jennifer Wolfe. Rachel's final scene of the day paired her with Anson Blake who played the main protagonist of the film, the town Golden Boy, JJ McCoy. JJ was the type of guy who had never let go of his high school glory days, and Mia had the severe misfortune of enduring JJ's amorous advances. Quinn watched as Rachel took her mark, settling on a bench by the gazebo in the middle of the town square. A little ways away, Anson Blake, the actor who played JJ, stood just out of the camera's range.

_It seemed to be a general understood fact that James McCoy, Jr. never walked anywhere. No, JJ strutted. He strutted with the self-imposed entitlement garnered by his father, Big Jim McCoy and Jim's financial successes within the Greensborough area. To be fair, JJ had his own reputation as Greensborough's Golden Boy, highlighted by his stellar performance in the conference championship game. They got killed, and JJ had been sacked a whopping seventeen times, but that game was the farthest any Greensborough team had gone. So, of course it meant something. And it did…in JJ's mind._

"_Well, this ain't right." JJ leaned over the back of the bench to peer at Mia, trying to sneak a look down her shirt. "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be sittin' all by her lonesome."_

_Mia merely turned a page in her book. "Good afternoon, JJ."_

_JJ took the casual greeting as invitation to join the baker, and he vaulted over the back of the bench, settling in beside her. When she failed to notice his supremely athletic effort, he cleared his throat._

"_Whatcha doing?"_

"_Well, the noon hour, my location outside the shop, and food around me would probably infer that I am enjoying my lunch time," Mia replied drolly._

"_Oh," JJ nodded sagely. "Yeah, that's that deductive reasoning shit, right?" _

"_Very good, JJ. It seems that Greensborough High was not erring in its judgment by taking the time to impart the wisdom of critical thinking."_

_JJ had no idea what that meant. He pointed to the book. "Whatcha reading?"_

"Indiana_."_

"_Sweet." JJ nodded as though he knew what he was talking about. "Who wrote it?"_

"_George Sand."_

"_He any good?"_

"She_ is marvelous," Mia asserted. "Quite progressive for her time."_

"_Wait, the chick's name is George?"_

"_It was her pseudonym," Mia explained. "She is actually Amantine Lucile Dupin, a French baroness who lived in the 1800s."_

_JJ looked bewildered. "What's a French lady doing writing about an American state?"_

"_The _character's_ name is Indiana," Mia corrected. "Besides, I wouldn't think there would be much to write about as Indiana had only been a state for sixteen years when this novel was published."_

"_How do you know this stuff?"_

_Mia shrugged. "Picked it up here and there."_

"_I had one of your bear paw thingies this morning," JJ declared, abruptly changing the subject. "It was awesome. Like seriously…" he searched his brain for an adequate comparison, "farting rainbows awesome." _

_Mia looked bewildered at the allusion. Still, she mustered up a reply. "Thank you. I am going to assume that is a compliment of the highest regard."_

"_It is," JJ assured her, looking supremely pleased with himself. He waited, looking slightly disgruntled when Mia turned her attention back to her novel._

"_So…"_

"_So…?"_

"_You and I?"_

_Mia returned the look, supremely nonplussed. JJ continued to look at her expectantly. Finally, she cocked an eyebrow. "Normally when one asks a question, JJ, one also lets the second party in on the subject matter."_

"_Huh?"_

"_I'm not psychic, JJ," Mia deadpanned. "You're going to have to tell me what you want me to know."_

"_Oh!" JJ puffed out his chest. "You and me. Dinner Friday." _

_Mia sighed, looking at her watch. "While I'm flattered, JJ, I'm not particularly interested in pursuing a relationship right now."_

"_I'll take that as a rain check."_

_Mia hummed, shooting JJ a noncommittal look as she snapped her book shut, standing and heading back to the bakery. "You do that."_

As she watched Rachel work the scene, Quinn couldn't help but laugh. Rachel played Mia perfectly disinterested and completely oblivious to JJ's overt flirting. Mia offered JJ nothing more than noncommittal smiles with the occasional response humoring the former jock. Quinn had a feeling this wasn't the first time Rachel had dealt with a persistent, bumbling buffoon who thought too much of himself.

Leaving the set and heading back home, Quinn certainly had ample time to think about this new development on set. She had to admit Chris made a good call in casting the Broadway starlet. Rachel was impressive, surely. Time would only tell if she could handle the deeper emotions as well as the light-hearted moments. Pulling into her driveway, she entered the house, calling out to the lone occupant.

"Honey, I'm home!"

Quinn knelt down as a chocolate-furred blur barreled into her, nearly knocking her over in his exuberance. Wrestling with the large Labrador, she let out a giggle, avoiding the searching tongue.

"Hey, buddy! Did you miss me?"

Charlie answered with a series of barks, running circles around his mistress, leaping in glee.

"I missed you too, bub." Quinn retreated to her bedroom to change into more comfortable clothes. She turned around to find Charlie nosing his favorite tennis ball her way and laughed. "Alright, you monster, let's go play."

An hour later, after Charlie had run himself rampant along the beach, Quinn sat down on her favorite log, staring out into the horizon.

"It was a good day today, Charlie," Quinn told her dog as he laid his head down on her knee. "I met my new costar, and she's very, very good."

Charlie made a questioning rumble, eyes turning towards her.

"Yeah, I know, shocking that I would admit something like that, but she really is. Miles better than Jennifer Wolfe ever was." Quinn ran an absent hand through the fur atop Charlie's head. "She got stuff out of me, gestures and emotions that seemed to almost deepen the character. It was impressive. _She_ was impressive."

Charlie barked his approval.

Quinn frowned. "I wonder what her background is. Chris said she was a Broadway implant but nothing much else…" Standing decisively, she hitched her head back to the house. "I'm gonna do some snooping. C'mon, Charlie, let's see who this Rachel Berry is, huh?"

Charlie bounded after her, barking excitedly. Traipsing into the living room, he settled himself on his cushion, waiting expectantly for his mistress to join him. Quinn chuckled, scratching behind his ears as she passed. Swiping the remote from the top of the mantle, she grabbed her laptop, flopping down on the couch.

With SportsCenter blaring in the background – she had to check up on the highlights of the Charger game and her favorite player, their electric middle linebacker dubbed The Hit Man by the press and fans – Quinn reclined back on her sofa, her laptop propped up on her knees. She brought up a window featuring Google and entered in Rachel's name.

The search results were surprising. Naturally, the majority of the results yielded some sort of Broadway-centered theme, but Quinn could see a few secular publications as well. Quinn clicked on Rachel's Wikipedia page, which was unexpectedly detailed. Name, birthdate, general information…nothing too crazy. But she wasn't about to trust a Wikipedia page to tell her everything about her new costar.

Going back to the search results, she scrolled through the YouTube clips, seeing performances, interviews, and Rachel's Tony acceptance speech, making a mental note to return to watch those some other time.

Scanning over the top results, she clicked on the link that had the most hits. To his surprise, it was an article on the Broadway starlet. A glossy picture highlighted the top, Rachel's headshot if she wasn't mistaken. Snuggling into the couch cushions, one hand stroking Charlie's fur, Quinn settled down to read the article.

* * *

><p><strong>Broadway Spotlight On:<strong>

RACHEL BERRY

_There are many ways an actor prepares for their big Broadway break. It's more than picking apart a star's brain, religiously studying audition pieces and running scales, or immersing oneself in all facets of the business – an actor best prepares by believing in herself and being open to anything. And having a little luck on your side doesn't hurt, either._

_This business is also about perseverance and taking risks. You know, the whole, "leap of faith." Okay, okay, okay, maybe that's a LITTLE clichéd and trite, and you've heard it quite often, but it's true – so true. And in an industry as cutthroat and competitive as performing arts, it's no secret that sometimes the harder your goal is to achieve, the more you WANT it. It's the talent, the competition and the stomach butterflies that make it so great. _

_Rachel Berry, 24, knows all about wanting it. She's wanted it since the first moment baby steps became dance steps. Ever since her first viewing of Funny Girl, Rachel Berry has known she wanted to be on stage. Currently appearing in the blockbuster musical about the modern woman looking for love in all the wrong places, Rachel Berry is making the most of her Broadway debut. But she is far from ignorant about the tenuous road that got her to where she is now._

_Berry, who grew up in Lima, Ohio, a tiny town ten minutes away from the bigger Akron, knew exactly what sort of risk she was taking in making Broadway her dream. "I came from a tiny town where most people are content with staying there their entire lives," she divulges. "It's rare to find people who make it out of Lima, and it's even more rare to find someone who's made it out of Ohio. Being from where I was, I knew that I had small-town disadvantage."_

_Berry admits that the road to her goal wasn't the easiest. "I had an almost single-minded intensity that often put-off people," she admits. "Especially during my teen years where everyone was still trying to find themselves, I had always known what I wanted to do. It was hard for my peers to deal with that. At times, I wasn't the most popular person." Berry never wavered, however. And despite the naysayers, she kept firm in her direction. "I knew that if I put in the work and kept the big picture in mind, fruition would eventually come."_

_And fruition did come, even before Berry received her diploma. While she was working her way through upper-level courses at New York University's Tisch School of the Arts, auditions came for the revival of a well-loved Broadway smash. Berry caught the eye of the production team fairly early. "They were looking for pretty much the epitome of an ingénue," she remembers. "The producers had heard about me from one of my professors. They gave me a call and offered me an audition." As easy as the initial offer was, the process itself was far from smooth sailing. "I think I went in for like five auditions," says Berry. "It would alternate between acting and dancing and singing, the same songs over and over. I'd read with dozens of Jimmys, sing with different prospects, dance with such a blur of revolving people. I kinda agonized whether or not I was cut out for this show before they told me I had gotten the part." It was an emotional moment for Berry the moment she found out she would be originating the role of the musical's thoroughly modern woman. "I cried when I heard the news. After all the adversity I had been through, all the doubt and agony, all the anger and frustration, everything seemed to be worth it. I was employed!"_

_At the tender age of 23, Rachel Berry made her Broadway debut as Millie Dillmount. A year into the production, however, she is still hesitant to brand herself as a bona fide Broadway starlet despite what the critics claim. "I don't think I'll do that until I have a few more shows under my belt," Berry admits. "I think that will be my moment of completion. Anyone can appear on Broadway once. It takes a bit more to establish yourself and maintain staying power. This is was where I am meant to be, but I don't think I'll be completely satisfied until I build a consistent reputation. Only then will I claim I've made it."_

_With poise like Rachel Berry's, it difficult to think this is a young woman in her Broadway debut rather than a veteran. It's certainly not an easy task to break into this world, and Berry is also incredibly grateful to her family for being so supportive of her decision to pursue this line of work. Some families may hesitate with such a decision, giving the rather unpredictable nature of show business in general, but Berry found herself with a very emphatic fanclub from the beginning. "I come from a rather…interesting family," she admits. "I was raised by two gay fathers, but my surrogate mother was also in my life. All three supported me." While support came easily from fathers Miles and Isaac Berry, it was a bit more difficult for her mother, Shelby Corcoran, to jump on the bandwagon, however. "My mother experienced the worst this business had to offer," Berry admits. "She lived through the rejections and people telling her she wasn't good enough. She was hesitant in tainting this castle in the sky I had cultivated in my mind and exposing me to the harsher side of Broadway and show business." In the end, however, Shelby supported her daughter in pursuing her dream. "My mom and I had a heart to heart," Berry explains. "There were a lot of tears and a lot of hugging, but we worked through it."_

_When asked what Rachel's goals are for the future, she remains optimistic and open-minded, but, as what has proven to be characteristic with the dominant part of her multi-faceted personality, she voices her ambitions with the single-minded passion and hard-charging assertiveness that has taken her to the head of the pack of Broadway's latest up-and-comers. "I want a Tony," she declares definitively. "Awards are just window dressing, but I would be lying if I deny that a Tony wouldn't be awesome. I don't care when; I don't care how. But I think that would be the best thing that could possibly happen in terms of materialistic aspirations." She shrugs. "Other than that, just a gratifying, long career would be great." When asked if she would ever appear in movies or film, Berry smiles and shrugs again. "I wouldn't say no," she answers honestly. "But my heart has always been in New York. I love this city; I love Broadway. It's like my North Star. I'll always find my way back." So, in other words, Broadway does not have to worry about losing its new, talented starlet. "It took a lot to get me here," she jokes affably. "Now that I've actually made it, it's gonna take a lot to get me away."_

* * *

><p>As she finished, Quinn couldn't quite escape the nagging feeling that had been pestering her since she had met Rachel earlier in the day.<p>

She perused the article again. Rachel had grown up in Lima. That wasn't too far from Akron, the city where Carmel was. They had Ohio in common. Interesting. There was else something about the Broadway diva that struck a chord within her. Her mannerisms, the way she spoke, Quinn couldn't help but think that she had experienced it before. It was almost…familiar.

"Rachel Barbra Berry," she muttered. "Why can't I shake you?"

Quinn jumped as Charlie's head suddenly appeared in her eyesight, something firmly clenched in his teeth.

"What's up, Charlie?" Quinn frowned at the keys he had dropped in her lap, his nose nudging the star on her keychain. Sitting up, he gave her an expectant look and a sharp bark. Quinn picked up her keys with a frown, tossing them back to the coffee table. "Bud, we just went out to the beach. You wanna go somewhere else now?"

The chocolate Labrador just whined and bowed his head down, covering his eyes with a paw. Humans…

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel bounced back to her trailer, pleased with her performance. She burst through the door, only to jump back with a shriek. "Oh, sweet Barbra!"

A tide of giggles washed through the two perched on her couch as they untangled themselves from their intimate embrace.

"_Lo siento_, Tiny," Santana choked out between her giggles. "We got bored on set."

"Yeah," Brittany piped up. "After like the fifth time, I realized you were totally saying the same words."

"Guys, come on!" Rachel whined, stomping her foot as Brittany and Santana put on their discarded bras and shirts. "At least let _me_ be the one to christen my own trailer."

Santana snorted with a toss of her head, and she opened her mouth to deliver a scathing retort.

Seeing the gesture, Rachel held up a hand, knowing exactly where Santana was going to go with the ready insult. "Don't, San…"

"What?" Santana grumbled, pouting for her lost opportunity. "It wasn't going to be that bad. I'd rate it about a four on the Meanness Scale. I'm feeling generous."

"I don't get why you don't get along," Rachel sighed, hands planted on her hips.

"Because he's a parasite who has an ulterior motive," Santana shot back. "And he's a no-talent hack who deserves to be background scenery." She crossed her arms. "I still have no idea how he managed to bag a lead role…"

"And he was mean to both Reno and Lord Tubbington," Brittany added. "So not cool."

Rachel sighed again at the singular contentious point between her and the girls. She decided to cut her losses while she could.

"C'mon. We have a car service, let's take advantage of it. Let's celebrate my first successful day on set."

Santana eyed her. "You buying first round?"

Rachel shrugged. "Why the hell not…I killed it today and I have a late call time tomorrow. Let's be a cliché and spend the night partying."

Santana brightened, shooting up from the couch and tugging Brittany along. "Sweet! I love Hollywood."

Rachel chuckled, following her two best friends out of her trailer. Yes, Hollywood was pretty amazing…

* * *

><p><strong>EDIT: Thanks to the awesome Azuri-chan, the Spanish now does not resemble gibberish! Take 2 on the translations:<strong>

__Estás loca, a lo mejor con un golpe en la cabeza recobraras el sentido_: _You're crazy, maybe if I hit your head you'll make sense again.

_Estrella_: star

_Lo siento_: I'm sorry

* * *

><p><em>And there we go! Hope you all enjoyed this installment. Up next, we get a Rachel-centered flashback. Quinn makes a conscious effort to get to know Rachel – maybe opening up a bit more in the process. Quinn's feeling of familiarity also deepens, and there will be more hijinks on <em>the Duty and Honor_ set. _

_ I'm glad you also like the flashbacks. I plan on using them pretty regularly, paralleling them to what happens in the story. That way, I can give you a bit of background while still teasing you on how it all connects._

_As always, thanks for reading and let me know what you think!_

*ISP


	4. Chapter 3

_I am so glad people like this story. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read, add this story on the various alert lists, and review. It really makes my day!_

_Can I just say how absolutely annoyed I am at this season? Seriously, I love _Glee_, but the writers are testing my loyalties. The way they handled Santana's "coming out?" The bullshit Quinn storyline? And please don't get me started on Finn. Why they continue to paint him as the "good" guy is beyond me. Rachel deserves WAY better. If you are as frustrated as I am with the direction they're taking Glee, I hope this fic and others like it are a good way to escape the madness that has devolved our beloved show._

_And to the anonymous reviewer – I wish you would have left some sort of pseudonym so I could properly reply – Yes, I admit as well that Google Translate is hardly a reliable source, but my rudimentary Spanish is in no way, shape, or form up to the task of faking it. Tee hee…_

_This chapter has a Rachel-centered flashback, Quinn attempting to get to know Rachel to interesting effects, and we get a bit more from _Duty and Honor_. Have fun!_

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><p><span>CHAPTER 3<span>

_**People often said that starting high school was like starting over. That freshman year of high school offered a clean slate, a blank canvas to mold as one would see fit.**_

_**Not in Lima, Ohio. In Lima, the social hierarchy decided whether or not your daily accessory included a Big Gulp filled to the brim of flavored ice chips or whether or not you stashed an Emergency Slushie Clean Up Kit in your locker well before high school. In Lima, Grover Cleveland Middle School placed you in your appropriate slot on the social pyramid: sitting pretty on top or feeling the dig of bony knees at the bottom.**_

_**It was easy to see where Rachel Berry would land. Two gay fathers, a surrogate mother, a rather vocal ambition for Broadway, and a strange affinity for argyle had the popular elite turning their noses up at her the moment her two tiny feet – clad in **_**saddle shoes**_** – stepped onto school grounds.**_

_**Rachel Berry was a curious creature. Despite her small-town upbringing, her fathers had been quick to indulge her Broadway obsession, consequently opening her eyes to the greater world around her, a world she desperately couldn't wait to join. She was simply biding her time in Lima until the moment she broke out to shine. Therefore, Rachel had a rather enlightened mindset that went beyond that small-town upbringing. And so, she endured the abuse and bullying of her less enlightened classmates. After all, it would probably be a rousing tale in her future memoir about her rise to stardom. Everyone loved the underdog. Still, Rachel Berry was a strong person and with that strength came a courage of conviction that did not allow her to stand idly by as someone was being put down.**_

_**So when she saw Azimio Adams, the left tackle for Grover Cleveland Middle School's Fighting Spartans, standing over Brittany Pierce, mocking the blonde's intelligence, Rachel snapped.**_

"_**Azimio Adams!"**_

_** Rachel wasn't sure what possessed her at the moment, but she acted, storming over to the confrontation and shoving the football player back – which wasn't very far considering her stature – and staunchly placing herself in front of Brittany. As Azimio looked on with amusement, she launched into one of her infamous tirades. **_

"_**Brittany is not stupid. She may see things differently than other people, she may understand things differently than other people, and she may comprehend things differently than other people, but she is not stupid." Rachel stood toe to toe with the enormous boy, fists planted on her hips, glaring up the rather considerable height difference to his face. "She may not be traditionally smart, but she is the most perceptive person around. She just thinks a bit differently. Moreover, she does not indulge in the mindless bullying that you and David seem to have quite the proclivity for. Rather, she takes the time to be kind to everyone. In that sense, I would think she's smarter than you!"**_

_** Fueled with equal parts anger and adrenaline, Rachel reared back, kicking the bigger boy squarely in the shin. Azimio yelped, crumpling to the ground with the force of the kick. Rachel loomed over him, dark eyes fierce and flashing with ire. "So leave her alone!"**_

_** Azimio surged up, ready to give the tiny brunette a Dumpster Dive she would never forget when two large shadows appeared behind her. He wasn't the smartest guy himself, but even he knew well enough not to mess with Noah Puckerman or Santana Lopez.**_

_** Puck hovered protectively behind Rachel. "Problem here?"**_

_** "Azimio here thought it prudent to insult Brittany's intelligence," Rachel growled, staring heatedly at the offending boy.**_

_** "Now, I know you're not dumb enough to actually try that," Santana drawled, gazing disinterestedly down at her nails, resplendent in her Junior Cheerios uniform. "Especially not to my Britts."**_

_** "You went after Brittany, dude," Puck added, his deepening voice made even deeper by his anger. "That makes you lower than low. I should totally set you on fire, but I totally used the last of my lighter fluid on a set of badass fireworks."**_

_**Santana popped a hip out, eyeing Azimio disinterestedly. "We're feeling generous so we're gonna let you scurry away with a warning. Run along before I change my mind."**_

_**Azimio looked from the cheerleader to his teammate. He may be on GC's football team, but he was much lower on the totem pole than either Puckerman or Lopez. He puffed out his chest, limping away with as much dignity as he could.**_

_** Puck turned to his Jew Babe and his girl bro since like birth – a fact that only partially protected her from the cruelties of GCMS – and offered out his fist. "You got him good, Berry. Badass, Starlet."**_

_** Rachel knocked knuckles, beaming brightly. "Thank you, Noah. My years of dance training as well as my rigorous morning workout routine have yielded much lower-body strength."**_

_** Santana rolled her eyes, marching forward to stand toe-to-toe with the little diva. "Look, Hobbit, we're not friends or anything," Santana began. She breathed out heavily through her nose, looking pained as she forced the words out. "But thanks. That was cool, helping out Britts and all."**_

_** "If you're not gonna be her friend, I'm gonna be her friend," Brittany piped up for the first time. She bounced beside Rachel. "Is that okay?"**_

_** "I would love that, Brittany," Rachel beamed.**_

_** "Yay!" Brittany looked to Santana expectantly. The Latina stubbornly crossed her arms, fixing her gaze pointedly away from the tall blonde. Finally, she chanced a glance at Brittany. **_

_**Big mistake.**_

_**Huge, baby blue eyes filled her vision. They blinked owlishly, and Santana crumbled. Shoulders slumping, she uncrossed her arms, directing a reluctant gaze to Rachel.**_

_** "Alright, fine. May as well be friends, too," Santana grunted. "You'll be hanging around Brit enough."**_

_**Rachel smirked, seeing Santana cave so spectacularly. The Latina hadn't confessed any sort of fluffy feelings toward their new friendship, but Rachel didn't mind. It was a challenge, and Rachel Berry never backed down from a challenge.**_

_** "Resist if you must but I'm going to kill you with kindness, Santana Lopez," Rachel declared, a triumphant look on her face.**_

_** Brittany giggled, clapping excitedly. She flung her arms around the petite girl, giving her a strong hug that lifted Rachel off her feet. Santana snorted with a, "Whatever…" before she flounced off to terrorize the rest of the student body.**_

_** Rachel wasn't sure how these new friendships would affect her status at Cleveland Middle but she found out a few days later. Dave Karofsky, one of the offensive linemen on Cleveland's football team, had corralled Rachel just outside of her math class, hefted her under his arm like a sack of potatoes, and marched her out to where the dumpsters were. He had lifted the lid and was just about to toss Rachel in when a shout caught his attention. **_

"_**Hey, Karofsky!" **_

_**Santana strode up to the football player. "Drop the midget and step away from the dumpster." **_

_** "What the hell, Lopez?" Karofsky snarled. He lifted Rachel. "Loser." He pointed to Rachel's destination. "Dumpster."**_

_** "Berry's off-limits," Santana asserted, her best bitch face adorning her features. "You can thank your fellow lunkhead Azimio for that."**_

_** It would have been easy to just ignore the order and throw in the loser, but Santana Lopez had already been named Deanna Rodriguez's successor to the coveted head tumbler position once she entered McKinley. That appointment made her a shoo-in for captain should Sue Sylvester so feel inclined. Dave didn't hide his biggest secret for as long as he did by being dumb. Should he disobey a direct order, his first day at McKinley would be christened by a slushie facial. **_

_**Karofsky growled, setting Rachel on her feet. "Your lucky day."**_

_** Smoothing out the wrinkles in cashmere sweater, Rachel sighed, grabbing her messenger bag and slinging it over one shoulder. Santana had to admit, the girl had gotten better at dressing herself. She didn't look like a cross between a toddler and a grandma like she did in their younger years. Rather, Rachel had adopted a sort of Ivy League preppy style that actually went well with her personality.**_

_**Rachel turned and smiled that bright smile at Santana. "Thank you for your assistance," Rachel chirped, relieved at the aborted Dumpster Dive. "The limitations on my physical stature makes removing myself from the dumpster rather difficult." **_

_** "This doesn't mean I like you, Berry." A soft expression on the Latina's face belied her harsh words. **_

_** Rachel beamed triumphantly. "I would expect nothing less, Santana."**_

_** "I'll give you this, midge," Santana murmured, leading the way back into school. "You're resilient."**_

Sometimes, Rachel Berry could only marvel exactly how far her friendship with Santana Lopez had progressed over the years. As she removed herself from the tangle of limbs belonging to herself, Santana, and Brittany, she smiled as she thought of how far the three of them had come. Despite Santana's stubborn protests – and she was certain Santana would never admit this to anyone – she had succumbed to Rachel's kindness quite quickly. According to Santana, "No one picks on you but me." Despite Santana's harsh words there was a noble intent behind them, and she certainly stayed true to her claim. Their previous night of celebrating had been quite successful and thoroughly intoxicating, and the trio had passed out in a weird and tightly wound pretzel in the living room of their hotel suite, not even bothering to move to their respective bedrooms. Surrounded by her two best friends, Rachel felt quite warm, snuggly, and certainly loved.

Her alarm chirped, and Rachel glanced at her phone, thanking her prudent decision to set it before they had been sufficiently trashed. She noted the time, calculating had a bit over two hours before she had get to the set. Groaning at the intense ray of light filtering in from the window overlooking the balcony, she dragged herself to the shower.

Humming to herself as she got ready for work, she thought back to her high school years. It would have been so easy for those four years at William McKinley to have been absolute torture. But with Santana and Brittany, they had made it somewhat bearable. Especially since somehow she found herself as a Cheerio during high school; she expected Brittany had much to do with it. Apparently, she was perfect for the nationally-ranked cheer squad. In Sue Sylvester's words: "Your freakishly small stature is optimal for the gravity defying routine that will secure yet another national championship for my storied legend. The very minute percentage of doubters will succumb to the unquestionable truth of my vast and glorious greatness that will be highlighted with you as my principle flyer. Not to mention your racial ambiguity will no doubt fill my diversity quota. Welcome aboard."

Despite the demanding Cheerio's schedule, Rachel was adamant in joining glee club, certain the show choir would help her in her eventual rise to Broadway stardom. She was one of the first to join, dragging Santana, Brittany, and surprisingly Puck with her. However, the glee club fit into less desireable slots of the social pyramid, and as the captain, Rachel found herself in a peculiar position of the unpopular of the popular. Plus, the whole gay fathers thing was still a point of contention amongst the socially conservative majority of Lima, but again, Santana and Brittany made it so much better.

Rachel entered her trailer, opening the travel tote and letting Reno roam around. She eased herself down on her couch, opening her script to peruse her lines, a ballpoint pen out and ready to make notes. Just as she settled, she heard the beep of her text tone. Rachel glanced down at her iPhone, noting the contact name with a grin. Her brow furrowed however at the message of the contact.

_We're in a fight._

Rachel rolled her eyes, idly wondering how such a manly man could sometimes be as petulant as an adolescent girl. She brought up the keypad, typing her response.

_Precisely why are we quarreling?_

Returning her attention to her script, Rachel made sure she knew her lines for the scenes she would be shooting. She had a couple with Quinn, a couple with Anson, and one scene to be shot as a flashback. That was the scene she was most excited for as the emotional range she would need to convey would certainly be a challenge. Her phone buzzed with the reply.

_Because I had to hear you were in California through Perez Hilton. WTF, JB?_

Again, Rachel rolled her eyes. She really did wonder for the boy…She was surprised at the mention of the pop culture gossip website when he mostly used the Internet for sports scores…and, well, porn.

_Why are you on Perez Hilton?_

His reply instantly flashed on her screen, and she shook her head at the unsurprising response. She really should have figured.

_To see if he's got the money shot on some hot Hollywood cougar. Why else?_

Rachel typed another quick reply. She hadn't kept in close contact with many of her former classmates, just a few of the original New Directions, but some people – like Brittany and Santana – were simply destined to be permanent fixtures in her life. He was certainly one of them. Therefore, she accepted his rather crass and crude nature with a smile and an accompanying eyeroll.

_You will never change._

Again, the reply came instantly.

_Duh. And we're still in a fight. I miss you!_

Rachel laughed. Since he had graduated college and moved from Austin, Texas to San Diego, they hadn't had much face-to-face time aside from Skype sessions where she helped him with his math and holiday breaks – he didn't get much of a Thanksgiving one during the school year as his team was still in season. She could readily admit she missed him too.

_I'll make it up to you. Send me your schedule, and we'll meet up._

That had always been their problem. He had a fairly predictable schedule: a game a week most of the time on Sundays, sometimes on Thursdays or Mondays, so that part wasn't difficult to work around. However, his travel schedule could be erratic. A game could be at home in San Diego, only to take him across the country to New York the next weekend.

_Deal. I expect badass cookies._

There was something familiar in that demand. He had always been a sucker for her baking, especially her cookies. She found very early on in their friendship that he had a massive sweet tooth, a fact that she exploited rather liberally, especially when it came to glee club. Still, she couldn't say no.

_Lol. Fine._

Rachel grinned, leaning back against the couch of her trailer, watching as Reno prowled idly. She had to admit that the West Coast sure had its perks.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn stepped out of her car, taking out the travel tray of coffee from the seat beside her and locking the vehicle. Tentatively, she scoped out the rows of trailers in front of her, seeking out Rachel's. She had never made any sort of step like this before to connect with any of her costars, even on the set of _Queen of Babble _– partially because she was certain Pierce Olivier was trying to get into her pants – and it had been years since she had made such an attempt. Ever since…well, she was a completely different person back then.

She made her way up the steps to Rachel's trailer. Reaching out a hand, she knocked softly. Almost immediately, the door opened. If Rachel was surprised to see Quinn, she hid it well, answering with a gracious smile. "Good morning, Quinn. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Hi." Quinn steeled her spine, refusing to show any sort of nervousness. She extended a hand wrapped around the appropriate travel cup. "I, uh, brought you coffee."

Rachel bit her lip, eyeing the cup closely. She appreciated the gesture, but she doubted it fit her dietary requirements.

Quinn saw the look of hesitancy on her costar's face and hastened to assure the brunette. "It's alright. It's made with soymilk. I heard you were a vegan."

The answering beaming smile halted Quinn's breath in her throat. It was as though Rachel suddenly radiated pure sunshine. Idly, she wished to do something else to induce it again.

"That's thoughtful of you, Quinn, thank you." Rachel stepped back. "Would you like to come in?" Rachel bustled around, ushering her costar into her trailer.

"Have a seat." She blushed at the general bareness of the area. "As you can see, I'm still trying to decorate a bit."

"It looks nice." God, that sounded lame even to her ears. Quinn gestured weakly around, noticing a travel tray on Rachel's vanity. "You, uh, already have coffee."

Rachel shook her head. "It's not for me. It's for my manager. Since I'm getting her up early, she's going to demand her favorite coffee. It's from that Blue Bottle Coffee Company up in San Francisco. Apparently craft services hired them to be our coffee provider, much to Santana's delight."

"Early?" Quinn looked down at her phone as she sat down on the couch. "It's almost eleven."

"That's early when you've got a hangover," Rachel pointed out, easing gracefully down on the cushion beside Quinn.

"Oh."

Quinn jumped in surprise as a gray striped cat jumped into Rachel's lap. "I, uh, didn't know you had company."

Rachel grinned, rubbing the top of the feline's head. "Meet Reno, my cat."

Quinn eyed the new arrival suspiciously. Rachel cocked her head at the curious expression adorning her costar's face.

"Are you alright with cats? You're not allergic or anything, are you?"

Quinn shrugged, still keeping her distance from the feline. "I don't know. I think my mom is so chances are so am I, but I've only had dogs as a kid, so we've never tested out that theory."

"No time like the present," Rachel declared, holding up the cat to Quinn's level. "Give her a pat. She's very friendly."

Quinn obliged, stretching out a hesitant hand. She ran her fingers through the soft fur, a different sort of texture than Charlie's. She smiled at the purr rumbling from Reno's throat. This wasn't so bad.

She must have spoken way too soon as Quinn frowned at the tickle that started to build. Her nose scrunched, and she let out a small sneeze. Then another.

Rachel grinned, barely containing her laughter as she scooted back from Quinn. "Well, my dear Quinn, it certainly seems as though yes, you are allergic to cats."

Rachel couldn't help but laugh at the dirty look Quinn shot Reno. Rachel rose from the couch and placed the tabby in her tote away from Quinn.

"You didn't have to do that, Rachel."

"It's alright, she actually prefers the bed in there anyway," Rachel placated. "Gives her an excuse to be lazy. Normally, I despise lazy people, but she is a diva like myself. I wouldn't expect anything less."

Quinn nodded as Rachel took a seat in the chair by her vanity. "So how are you liking the movie business?"

"You mean in comparison to theatre?" At Quinn's nod, Rachel frowned thoughtfully. "It's completely different," she mused. "But in a good way. It's a different challenge as an actor."

"How so?"

"Well, on stage, obviously, you don't get multiple takes," Rachel explained. "I've always thought theatre was one of the purest forms of acting."

Quinn cocked her head, curious at Rachel's rationale. "Why do you say that?"

"Think about your first acting class," Rachel answered. "I'm sure the instructor told you at some point that the basis of acting was reacting. That theory is at its purest in live theatre. Once you say a line, that's what you've said, that's how you've interpreted the part for the day. If you're not satisfied, you have to live with it until the next show. You don't get to say, 'Hang on, that was horrible. Let's do that again.'"

"That's interesting," Quinn commented. It seemed like that little monologue gave her as much insight as she would ever have to the workings of Rachel Berry's professional persona. "Is that why you pursued Broadway instead of Hollywood?"

Rachel grinned. "Well, that and I have found that I live for applause. You don't get that at the end of every take here." Rachel burrowed even further in the comfy chair in front of her mirror, sipping her coffee. "But I guess it started when I was a kid. I started singing because I had trouble expressing emotions. So I'd sing when I didn't know how to express something. I'd sing when I felt happy or when I was mad. When I sang, I _felt_ more, you know?"

Rachel shrugged. "Singing has always made me feel more connected to my humanity, I guess."

Quinn didn't answer, merely nodded her head. She knew exactly how Rachel felt. That was the purpose acting served for her.

Both stars glanced up as the door to the trailer banged open and Santana trumped in. She didn't look entirely put together as she stumbled down onto the closest corner of the couch. Bleary eyes honed in on Rachel.

"Give me coffee or I'll sit on you."

"San, don't say that," Brittany chastised softly, literally bouncing into Rachel's trailer, twirling in a circle before flopping down on the arm of the couch. Her butt had barely settled before she hopped right back up, plopping down on the floor. Wiggling to get comfortable, she looked up at Santana who had burrowed into the corner of the couch. "Ray isn't as squishy as your little brother."

Still obviously bouncy, Brittany stood, skipping over to Rachel, taking a cup full of Santana's favorite drip coffee and placing it in the Latina's hand with a kiss to the cheek. Santana grunted her thanks.

Rachel cocked her head. Normally, Brittany was quite the energetic person in the morning, but this was a bit much. There was only one thing that would give Brittany this much energy, and they often avoided doing so for fear it might overload Brittany's already wired system. Rachel shot Santana an accusatory look, her manager looking a bit more coherent with a little caffeine in her system. "You gave her an energy drink!"

"The one with the happy yellow M on the can!" Brittany affirmed. "You know I love yellow. It's my favorite color! It reminds me of little baby ducks and sunflowers and sunshine, and sunshine reminds me of you, Ray! Because I shorten your name and that's like a ray of sunshine because you're always happy like me. Oh, and your smile is like sunshine too!" Brittany's attention snapped to Rachel's cat as she ventured out of her bed to greet the new arrivals. "Reno!" Brittany snatched up Rachel's tabby in her arms, oblivious to the cat's squawk of protest. "_It's so fluffy, I'm gonna die!_"

And that was precisely the reason they refrained from giving Brittany energy drinks. Rachel glared at Santana once more.

For her part, Santana scowled, finishing off her coffee in a few quick gulps and tossing the empty cup in the garbage. "Dammit, Berry, you know when she turns those big blues on me and bats those damn eyelashes…"

Rachel smirked. "You're such a sucker, San."

Santana cocked an eyebrow, crossing one leg over the other. "Sure am," she affirmed. Her expression turned devious. "Britt likes it, after all."

Rachel squeaked, grabbing a nearby cushion and hurling it at the Latina. "Santana Ines Magdalena Garcia Lopez, if your _abuela_ would have heard you speak like that she would wash your mouth out with soap!"

Brittany giggled. "Wow, San, it's been awhile since you've got her tweaked enough to bust out all four names." She let go of Reno who snuggled herself in the blonde's lap. Brittany turned to Rachel, breaking the star's staring contest with her manager. "She's not lying though. You know how we've been working on her telling the truth and stuff."

"Brittany!" Rachel shrieked, gesturing emphatically to Quinn. "We have company, and it's not particularly courteous to reveal such intimate details when she has not reached that level of comfort with us!"

For the first time, Santana noticed Rachel's costar watching the proceedings with a slightly bewildered look on her face. "What are you doing here?"

Quinn met Santana's suspicious stare evenly. "I came by to bring Rachel some coffee. We ended up talking a bit."

"Quinn, my manager Santana Lopez and my personal assistant Brittany Pierce. They've been my best friends since middle school."

"Question!" Santana cut in as she lofted a hand, eyeing Quinn. "Is this for real? Cuz, let me tell you now, you playing some game with my midge, I'ma have to go Lima Heights Adjacent on your ass. You don't want me to mess up your pretty face."

Rachel looked appropriately scandalized. "Santana!"

Quinn met the Latina's stare evenly. "I can assure you there isn't some ulterior motive."

Santana cocked an eyebrow. There weren't many people who could hold her stare with equal force. Perhaps the tales of this Ice Queen weren't an exaggeration. Still, she refused to back down.

"Alright."

"I should go." Quinn stood, heading towards the trailer door. "Thanks, Rachel."

"I'm sorry about that," Rachel stood, moving with her to the door, face red with embarrassment. "Santana's just really protective."

Quinn shrugged noncommittally. "No big. I get it. I do have go anyway. I've got a scene with Gordon in a bit," she said, mentioning the actor who played Sloane's father, Bill Gerard. "I'll see you later, Rachel."

As soon as the trailer door swung shut and Rachel was certain Quinn was safely out of earshot, she whirled on Santana. "Way to go, Santana! Now she's never going to warm up to me."

Santana scoffed. "Why are you so concerned with having Quinn Lucas like you?"

Rachel shrugged helplessly, plopping down on the couch. "You know me, Santana."

The Latina sighed heavily. She scooted towards the smaller girl and draping an arm around her shoulders. "I do, Little Star. You've always been the one to take in the strays and give them a happy home."

Rachel nudged her best friend. "Normally turns out pretty well, doesn't it?"

Santana chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Rachel's temple, feeling extra warmth as Brittany bounced up to join them, wrapping her long arms around both girls. "Yeah, Tiny, it does."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel hated feeling unconfident. She was a star, and if there was one thing all stars had, it was an overwhelming feeling of confidence in their talent. But when faced with Quinn Lucas, in all of her stunning, effortless glory, Rachel felt supremely unconfident. Still, she was determined to make this relationship work. Therefore, she had to overcome her own insecurities. Determinedly, she approached Quinn as the other woman exited the wardrobe trailer.

Game face, Berry.

"Quinn?" The look her costar shot her was neutral. That was good. That meant there was no backward step. Rachel drew in a deep breath.

"I apologize for Santana. She can be a bit…" Rachel flailed slightly trying to find an appropriate description for her friend. "Well…"

For her part, Quinn fought to keep her eyes in a respectable place. It was rather difficult when the brown scoopneck, long sleeved shirt was hugging Rachel's curves in all the right places, and the gathered bodice accenting the slight cleavage wasn't helping either.

"It's okay, Rachel. I understand." Quinn offered out a small smile. "My best friend did that to me once. It might have been more effective if he wasn't going through puberty at the time. His voice broke in the middle of his threat."

Rachel giggled and nodded, looking wholly relieved. Normally, Quinn found such a gesture completely insipid, but Rachel's soft giggle reminded her of wind chimes.

"Thanks, Quinn."

Again, Quinn offered her a small smile – it still wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. "I'll see you on set."

Grinning brightly at a notch in her win-column, Rachel turned away, skipping off, and Quinn had to take another steadying breath. Good Lord, the view from the back was even better. Rachel's rather pert ass was in a set of skinny jeans, cute knee-high boots ending the ensemble. Everything about her costume was accentuating the best parts of Rachel. Quinn lofted her eyes to the heavens, muttering under her breath as she followed at a more sedate pace. The Big Man was a cheeky, calculating bastard…

Anson Blake had just finished with his scene and approached Quinn as she and Rachel entered the Greensborough set. "You two ready?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed. Anson was a bit too much like his character for her liking. Rachel was hit with a full-on Ice Queen persona as Quinn shot Anson a look. Hesitantly, the man retracted his arm.

"Don't worry about us, Anson," she assured the tall man with absolutely no inflection in her voice. "I have no doubt we will be making some magic today."

Anson shivered as she strode away, following the diminutive form of Rachel Berry. He checked himself for frostbite. Yeesh, talk about a chilly reception.

* * *

><p><em>Sloane figured she must look like the creepiest of all creepers, she decided as she paced in front of Mia St. Claire's bakery. The lights were on, but no one seemed to be inside. Ever since her first meeting with the cute little baker, Sloane couldn't shake Mia St. Claire from her mind. There was something about her. Something mysterious and compelling. And good heavens was she adorable.<em>

_A hand on her shoulder startled her momentarily. Acting purely on instinct, Sloane whirled, lashing out with a fist. As she remembered where she was, inwardly Sloane cringed, thinking her stupid, rash paranoid act was gonna end up with her being sued or arrested or both. That thought magnified tenfold as she recognized the pretty face of the bakery's proprietor. _

_Thumbs up, Gerard. You really put your foot in this one. _

_She was astonished, however, when Mia merely leaned back, allowing Sloan's fist to whistle through empty air._

"_Hmmm, probably wasn't the smartest idea to sneak up on a Marine fresh from overseas…" Mia nodded definitively. "Duly noted."_

_Frozen in place, mouth agape, Sloane regained her bearings enough to stammer out, "I'm so…"_

_Mia waved the apology away. "No harm, no foul. I shouldn't have snuck up on you anyway."_

"_Sorry." Sloane shoved her fists in her pockets so that they wouldn't be tempted to do something stupid again. "Still trying to shake the paranoia."_

"_I'm not going to argue with that," Mia soothed. "It was that slight paranoia that brought you back in one piece."_

_Sloane smiled tightly. "So, why are you out here and not in there? Normally you open at five."_

"_Well," Mia drawled. "Normally businesses operate on reduced hours on Sundays. I just stay closed." She gestured to the sign in the shop's window. "I thought the big 'Closed' sign would be of some assistance."_

_Sheepish at her moment of stupidity, Sloane blushed, hearing Mia chuckle slightly. Head snapping up, Sloane eyed the other woman. "You're a bit of a smartass, aren't you?"_

_Her response was a cheeky grin. "Perhaps." She eyed the Marine. "What are you doing out here?"_

_Sloane shrugged. "Just wanted to see if your stuff really did taste as good as it looked."_

"_Well, you can't find that out just standing out here." Mia reached out, grabbing Sloane's hand. "Come on."_

_Slightly befuddled, Sloane allowed herself to be tugged along. "I thought you were closed."_

"_To the general public," Mia corrected. She looked back to the Marine with a wink. "For you, Lieutenant, I think I'll make an exception."_

* * *

><p>During a break in filming, Santana sidled up to Quinn at the craft services table under the guise of grabbing another cup of coffee.<p>

"We need to talk."

Quinn snorted, not looking at Rachel's manager. "I have nothing to say to you."

"Good, because I was planning on doing all of the talking." Santana leveled Quinn with a look, a fierce protectiveness shining through. "Look, I'm not intimidated by your Ice Queen bullshit. I've heard about you. You don't do this 'get to know each other' shit."

Quinn didn't answer for a long time. Santana looked at the woman beside her. She saw the rigid posture of the other woman, saw the carefully constructed mask, and saw the hazel eyes devoid of emotion. It all made sense, because Santana saw herself before freakin' Rachel Berry sunk her claws of sunshine in and never let go.

"And what makes you so sure you know anything about me?"

"Because you're a lot like I was," Santana answered honestly. "And Rachel's really good at coaxing even the most closed off people out of their shells." For the first time, Santana _saw_ Quinn Lucas.

"Look, I know what you're feeling. You start small, nothing significant, then the next thing you know, you're spilling your guts and she's cradling you as you bawl like a baby. I get it."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

Santana shrugged. "I know that she has such a big, open heart that when you talk to her, she makes you feel like you're the most important person in the world. Like someone actually cares and listens. And the best part? She actually _does_ care and she actually _does_ listen."

But when Santana locked eyes with Quinn again, she was as serious as a heart attack. "So, real talk. Right now. I don't care if I'm overstepping my boundaries or whatever. Rachel is like a sister to me. If this is some sort of game to you or whatever, stop it. Because if I even sense something is wrong with my midge and I find out you're the cause of it? I will destroy you, and I will come out smelling like a rose doing it."

Like earlier that morning, Quinn held Santana's stare evenly. "I can respect that. I'm not out for anything. Rachel's just…" Quinn shrugged. "I can't help it. But something about her…it's like compelling me to get to know her."

Quinn felt as though Santana was picking her apart. Finally the Latina nodded. "Alright. I can get that."

She turned around. She had made it only a few steps before she came back, almost as an afterthought. "Oh, and I'm sorry about being so snappy this morning. For some reason, Brit was super concerned about being on time to meet Rachel, so I didn't gets me some baby blondie lovin'."

All Quinn could do was shrug. "It's alright."

As Santana returned to Rachel's side, Quinn felt as though she learned something really important about Rachel Berry.

* * *

><p><em>Mia ushered Sloane into the back where the kitchen was, sitting her down by the center island. Rooting through her cabinets for the appropriate ingredients, Mia tossed them on the island. Sloane watched with fascination as Mia dumped stuff into the large mixing bowl, her movements so practiced and sure she didn't even need to use a measuring cup. Some things were recognizable like butter and eggs. Others, she had no idea what they were.<em>

_Mia switched on the dock in the corner, filling the room with music, and she bounced around, humming absently to the beat. Sloane could only smile at the other woman's quirky dance moves, shaking her head as Mia implored her to sing along._

_Finally, Mia finished with her concoction, placing a wine red ball of substance before the Marine and a cup of coffee. Sloane eyed it suspiciously._

"_What is it?"_

_Mia shook her head playfully. "Just taste it. I know for a fact you're not allergic to any of this stuff because your mom asked me to bake your 'Welcome Home' cake, and all that stuff is basically in what's in front of you."_

_Sloane shrugged. Apparently it was like cake, so it couldn't be that bad. Tentatively, she lifted the concoction up to her mouth and bit down slightly. What resulted was what Sloane could only describe as an explosion of immense flavor. Barely swallowing her first bite, she opened her mouth to take a more generous sampling._

"_God," Sloane moaned around her full mouth. "I hate to say this, but JJ was right. It's like I'm farting out rainbows right now, it's so good."_

_Mia wrinkled her nose in consternation. "Just because you're the one saying it doesn't make it any less crass."_

"_Do you have any idea how much it pains me to admit JJ McCoy was right about something?"_

_Mia laughed, merely continuing to drizzle the red velvet cake balls with white chocolate._

"_Seriously, do you learn this kind of thing or are you just this amazing at baking naturally?"_

"_It's something I picked up here and there," Mia hedged._

"_So you aren't this awesome naturally?"_

_Mia laughed, shaking her head. "Goodness, no. Owning a bakery wasn't even in the same spectrum as my career aspirations. This was Rosie's dream. The dream she never saw come true."_

_Sloane took another sip of her coffee. "Is she who the bakery is named after?"_

"_Yup. I owed it to her to see this through," Mia murmured. Sloane frowned as an indescribable emotion flashed in Mia's eyes. There was sadness in the depths, an overwhelming veil of guilt and regret. It was easy to recognize. Sloane had seen it many times in the eyes of her men. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished again, the sparkle of perpetual mirth residing in Mia's brown eyes once again. _

"_What happened?"_

_Mia shook herself, adopting a sunny smile. "That's a story for another time."_

* * *

><p>As the set of <em>Duty and Honor<em> wrapped for the day, Rachel found herself alone as she jogged down the steps of her trailer. Brittany and Santana had left the set early, taking Reno to drop her back off at the hotel. Don had caught wind of an opportunity for Rachel and wanted them to check it out. She slung a coat over her shoulders, searching in her purse for her phone to call her car service.

"Hey."

Rachel glanced up as the familiar voice called out to her. Quinn straightened from her lean against her Ferrari. "Great job today."

Rachel smiled, inclining her head. "Thanks. You too," she offered in return.

Quinn surveyed her costar. As usual, her expression gave nothing away, just a cool façade. She approached Rachel, stopping right in front of the smaller woman and cleared her throat.

"Look, you and I are supposed eventually play lovers." She was aware this had the potential to become supremely awkward. "I really believe in this story and I want to make this movie beyond amazing. To do that, I really think you and I need to be comfortable with one another. I'm not saying we try and force a relationship between us, but I think it would be beneficial if we get to know one another. Our chemistry is great right now, but I think we have an opportunity to make it even better. So…" Quinn drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. That was one awkward, rambling, borderline nonsensical mess. She had never taken this step before. This wasn't even a step. It was a friggin' leap. "You wanna grab some dinner or something?"

Rachel had been patiently waiting for Quinn to finish her monologue. The look on her face showed a bit of trepidation, but when the words finally tumbled out of Quinn's mouth and she registered them, Rachel relaxed, and her face broke out into that bright, beaming smile that was so infectious earlier. Sure enough, Quinn couldn't help but respond similarly. Rachel really did have a great smile.

The little diva straightened, nodding happily. "I'd like that."

This time, Quinn's smile was more relieved than anything. "Alright." She hitched a thumb to her car. "I'll drive."

Rachel cocked her head at the sleek convertible. "I've never ridden in a Ferrari before…"

Quinn smirked. "As I've demonstrated, Miss Berry, there is certainly a first time for everything."

_And there you go! I'm not sure I'm in love with the pacing in this one, but I'm trying to build a good foundation between Quinn and Rachel. Therefore, it might take a bit longer for them to really connect. They're making their steps now, but we've got a bit longer to go for Miss Quinn. That being said, that doesn't mean it will take forever for Quinn to realize who Rachel is. Up next, we have an emergence of a Glee kid, a little bonding time between Quinn and Rachel, and a revelation shifts the direction of their relationship both on screen and off. Stay tuned, and as always, I encourage you to review and let me know what you think!_

_*ISP_


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: **WARNING! THIS CHAPTER HAS AN M-RATED SECTION IN THE FLASHBACK. QUINN GETS A LITLE LADY-LOVIN' IN. IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THAT SORT OF CONTENT, PLEASE SKIP AHEAD PAST THE BOLD AND ITALICIZED TEXT.

_And now back to your regularly-scheduled installment of _Duckling_._

_Thanks to everyone who has been so wonderful in leaving comments, favoring, etc. It's wonderful to hear your feedback. I apologize if I don't get to respond to your comment directly, but don't think I'm not appreciative! _

_Everyone, please give a warm welcome and round of applause to the excellent __**Azuri-chan**__, who was nice enough to provide the Spanish translations for this chapter so that Santana does not expel gibberish._

_As hinted at the beginning of this fic back at the prologue and the beginning of this chapter, there will be some M-rated chapters but nothing to warrant change the overall rating. This chapter is sort of one of them. There is some M-rated material in the flashback but nothing ridiculously explicit. I still figured I'd post a heads up. The overall rating is still a T-rating. That may change, but I figure I would just put up a warning _

_And I just thought I'd leave you all with this comment from __**piecesofyourheart **__because it's just epically awesome: _Your story is like farting out a rainbow.

…

…

…

_BWAHAHAHAHA!_

_That made my day. Anyway, the theme of this chapter is revelations. I'll leave it at that. Please heed the warning at the beginning. Enjoy!_

CHAPTER 4

_**Ever since the Fabrays moved to San Diego, Quinn had found her eyes opened to a world that was greater than she had ever imagined. It seemed that the things she was certain were truth and fact didn't seem so much anymore. Her father had sworn 'faggot homosexuals' were the scum of the earth, yet the openly gay boy at Roosevelt High had been the senior class president and was one of the nicest people she had ever met. He swore lesbians were filthy, dirty degenerates, but the most of the lesbians she had encountered at USC were gorgeous, normal women. And Russell Fabray had sworn he was a good Christian man…yet he had girlfriends in three other states, all of whom had no idea he was a husband and father. **_

_**Which led her to her current predicament. Quinn finally succumbed to the pleading of her friends and her roommate to come out with them for a night of clubbing. Wheedling her acquiescence, they presented her with an eerily authentic-looking fake ID, shoved her into an appropriate club outfit, and shuffled her into a cab that took them all downtown.**_

_**The moment they had set foot inside the club, the bouncer casting no more than a casual glance at their IDs (because, really, if five insanely hot girls presented themselves before him, he would have been fired had he barred them entrance, if not castrated by the legions of males idling outside), Quinn merely posted up on a seat at the bar and nursed a Lemon Drop martini. Unfortunately, the men in the general area took her isolated position as invitation to approach her with what they surely thought was some sort of smooth line. It didn't take much to deter potential suitors, just a frosty glare with an elegantly arched eyebrow. After the fifth or so potential Casanova, Quinn thought of calling it a night and taking a cab home when a presence at her elbow gave her pause. **_

"_**Jack and Coke and whatever the lady is havin'."**_

_**The voice wasn't as deep as the ones she had previously declined contact with. Rather, it held a sexy rasp tinged with the slightest of Southern twangs. **_

_**Quinn glanced up to politely refuse the drink when she found herself staring at probably the most gorgeous girl…no **_**woman**_** she had ever seen. Unruly, midnight black waves framed strong features highlighted by high cheekbones and a stubborn chin with a slight cleft indenting the point. Soulful brown eyes peeked out from perfectly sculpted eyebrows.**_

_**Unwittingly, a completely different response left her lips. "Uh, thanks."**_

_**The woman shot her a dimpled smile. "No worries." She gestured to the unoccupied stool beside Quinn. "You mind if I sit?"**_

_**Quinn nodded shortly. "Sure."**_

_**The woman stuck out a finely-boned hand, lean arm muscles flexing slightly. "Lindsay."**_

_**Quinn grasped the outstretched hand. "Quinn." She ran her eyes up long, slender legs as one crossed over the other. She motioned to the other woman's footwear. "Cowboy boots? Ambitious there."**_

_**Lindsay shrugged, taking a generous swallow of her drink. "Just keepin' true to the roots. Although, I gotta tell you." Dark eyes subtly raked up and down Quinn's seated frame. "Not everythin' is better in Texas."**_

_**Quinn chuckled, refusing to be immediately charmed by the other woman. It was a difficult task; Lindsay had a cocksure attitude and a rakish smile that was all too attractive. "You're dropping your g's on the floor there, cowgirl."**_

_**Lindsay smirked, shrugging unabashedly. "Happens when I'm around a pretty lady."**_

_**Quinn was happy for the dark club lighting so the other woman wouldn't be able to see the blush. Lindsay surveyed her, and Quinn wasn't sure of the intent that glimmered in the luminous eyes.**_

"_**You anyone interesting?"**_

_**It had been awhile since someone had been worth her time, but this mysterious Texan had intrigued her. Maybe she was playing a dangerous game here, but Quinn couldn't help but lay her hand down. She went with coy and flirty. "I can be."**_

_**Lindsay pondered that for a moment before she slid from her stool, hitching her chin to the booths overlooking the dance floor. "C'mon, it's too busy up here."**_

_**Quinn followed Lindsay from their spot at the bar across the dance floor and up the stares to an empty table. Try as she might, she couldn't tear her eyes from the other woman's posterior as Lindsay's tall, lanky frame swaggered across the floor with a self-confidence that was highly attractive. Shaking the thoughts from her head, Quinn slid beside Lindsay into the circular booth tucked off to the side.**_

_**Quinn turned to brunette, leaning back slightly. "So what are you doing here in LA?"**_

_**Lindsay shot her another dimpled grin, straight, white teeth flashing in the dim light. "What does everyone do in LA?"**_

_**Quinn smirked. "Try to make it in the business…"**_

"_**Yup," Lindsay popped the 'p,' gulping down her drink. "And I'm just like every sad sap here."**_

"_**You're a model, aren't you?"**_

"_**What gave it away?"**_

"_**Your Amazonian height," Quinn deadpanned. **_

_**Lindsay chuckled. "I'm doin' a bit of modeling, yeah. Print ads and runways. You?"**_

"_**Deciding if my degree in philosophy is gonna be worth anything," Quinn grumbled ruefully. "I've got an agent who swears I'll be the new face of television, but so far…"**_

"_**Bit parts and guest spots?" Lindsay ventured.**_

_**Quinn shrugged. "Pretty much."**_

"_**Don't know if that's all too bad. People'll be too preoccupied on how gorgeous you are, they'll forget whatever else that's goin' on."**_

"_**That a line?"**_

_**Lindsay smiled. God, those dimples. "Depends."**_

_**Quinn cocked an eyebrow, eyeing her companion coolly. "On?"**_

_**Lindsay's voice lowered to a husky murmur. Her hot breath caressed Quinn's ear, full of promise. "If you're bitin'…"**_

_**Lindsay's hand landed on her thigh, and at the electricity sparking from the point of contact. Long, strong fingers traced a maddening circular pattern on the bare skin.**_

"_**This okay?"**_

_**She opened her mouth to voice the negative, but her breath caught in her throat. Unwittingly, her head bobbed in the affirmative. As Lindsay's hand swirled upward towards the potent heat radiating from her center, Quinn thanked her lucky stars that her roommates had forced her into a mini-dress.**_

_**Her eyes fluttered, drifting to lock on the dark pair hovering over her. Quinn couldn't help herself. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to Lindsay's. They were moist and warm, tasting faintly of the whiskey the brunette had been drinking and some fruity lip-gloss and oh…so **_**soft**_**. A tongue meandered out, brushing against the seam of her lips, and Quinn reflexively opened to the invasion. Oh, wow, tongue was even **_**better**_**.**_

_**In that moment, everything made sense. The lingering looks to some of her teammates in the locker room, the slight double-takes when an attractive girl would walk by, how none of her past relationships with men gave her this intense feeling of unadulterated desire. The pieces of an incomplete puzzle fit together, finally revealing the big picture.**_

_**Lindsey broke away first. Her eyes had darkened to a near black as she bolted up from her seat, tugging Quinn insistently along. Lindsay led them to a quiet corner, enshrouded in darkness, away from the bustle of the club. She whirled back around, pushing Quinn up against the wall, sealing her lips over the blonde's, and shoving a thigh between Quinn's splayed legs. One hand pulled insistently hooking a leg around her waist.**_

_**At that moment, Quinn ceased all thought. All she could do was **_**feel**_**. And God, did she feel.**_

_**The heat of Lindsay's palms, one up the skirt of her dress and kneading her ass, the other cupping her breast.**_

_**The roughness of Lindsay's kiss, stealing the breath from her throat.**_

_**The bite of Lindsay's teeth, sinking into the column of her neck.**_

_**The delicious friction of Lindsay's thigh, the rough denim dragging so delightfully against her center.**_

_**Just when she thought she could feel anything more, the hand that was kneading her ass slid over her thigh, then up, up, up, until…oh, **_**wow**_**.**_

_**Uneven pants transitioned to lusty moans. Quinn searched for purchase somewhere. Anywhere to anchor herself as a completely different set of sensations surged through her. She found it in the unruly waves of Lindsay's hair. She should feel so dirty, her body rolling in time with Lindsay's relentless pace, but that thought proved to be fleeting, this uproar of pure feeling battering it back to wherever it came from.**_

_**It all just felt so **_**good**_**.**_

_**With a ragged wail, muffled as she buried her face into the sweet-smelling juncture of Lindsay's neck and shoulder, Quinn came apart, all sensations exploding in a massive combustion of white heat, the roaring in her ears only slightly masking Lindsay's own release. Quinn slumped down, held steady by Lindsay's strong arms.**_

_**As she recovered, she lifted hazy eyes to a twinkling pair of brown ones. "Hi."**_

_**There was that dimpled smile again. "Hi." Lindsay brushed her lips against Quinn's, one hand gently pushing the wayward strands from Quinn's forehead. "You good?"**_

_**Mutely, Quinn nodded, reeling from the rush of adrenaline. Lindsay smiled, holding out a hand as Quinn smoothed down her dress.**_

_**Lindsay smirked, the gesture full of macho satisfaction. For some reason, Quinn thought it cute. "I'm gonna head out. You goin' my way?"**_

_**Quinn shrugged, indecisive. It was a hook-up, no more, no less. "I should let my friends know."**_

_**Lindsay nodded. "I'll meet you out front."**_

_**She meandered down the steps to the dance floor. In the crush of people she found her friends, motioning to the door rather than try shouting over the music. Her roommate nodded and waved at her phone without breaking rhythm with the guy she was grinding up against. Quinn returned the nod, acknowledging the request to send a text when she got home. Stepping outside to the fairly warm evening, she saw Lindsay standing at the curb, an unlit cigarette clenched in her teeth, spinning a closed Zippo lighter between her thumb and index finger.**_

"_**Anyone ever told you smoking's bad for you?"**_

_**Lindsay leveled her with a deadpan look. "Ever heard of having a cigarette after really good sex?"**_

_**Quinn smirked, neither agreeing nor conceding. "I'm heading south."**_

_**Lindsay shrugged. "I'm up north." **_

_**There was an unvoiced agreement. Lindsay reached down and opened the door to the cab. "I'll get another one." She grinned around the still unlit cigarette. "We should get together some time."**_

_**Quinn nodded. "I'd like that."**_

_**The brunette snatched the cigarette from her mouth and leaned in, pressing a final kiss to Quinn's lips. "You have my number. I put it into your phone. Give me a call some time."**_

_**Again, Quinn could only nod, sliding into the cab. As the door shut firmly behind her, she gave the address to a different apartment. Using her spare key, she snuck through the dark living room to a room in the far corner. Quinn slipped off her heels and stopped by the bed in the middle of the room.**_

_**She smiled at the familiar position of her best friend, his bare back peeking above the sheets pooled at his waist that revealed a sliver of his Bartman boxers. Declan was a sprawler, his limbs reaching all four corners of his bed. As he slept, Quinn observed her best friend. When they were younger, puberty was not kind to Declan Riley, bestowing upon him a small stature, outrageously curly hair, and poor vision. He was a late bloomer, the smallest kid in their class before undergoing a massive growth spurt the summer before their junior year. Eventually, he grew into his looks and had matured into quite a handsome young man. Physically, he was also impressive, his position as the starting center for the USC water polo team certainly sculpted his body quite nicely. **_

_**Quinn stared hard at his prone form. Objectively, he was what one would deem the ultimate specimen of male. So why didn't she feel any sort of attraction?**_

_**Quinn sighed, bouncing up on the bed. "D! Declan, wake up!"**_

_**Being the light sleeper that he was, Declan responded almost immediately. He grunted, rolling onto his back, displaying a defined set of abdominal muscles. His eyes, long Lasik-ed to perfect vision, blinked owlishly, recognizing his best friend. "What the fuck, Q?" His head lolled to the side, and he let out a groan as he registered the time from the clock on his nightstand. "It's five in the morning!"**_

_**Quinn sat back on her haunches, worrying her bottom lip. "I think I'm gay."**_

_**That certainly got his attention, and he sat up straight, nearly upending his best friend. "What? Gay? Like you like girls?"**_

"_**No, Declan, like I'm really, really happy." Quinn bit the inside of her cheek. Well, that wasn't completely inaccurate. "I was at a bar, I got hit on by a woman, I kissed a woman, I had sex with a woman, and I really, **_**really**_** liked it."**_

"_**Wait, slow down and rewind." Declan ran his hand through his curly hair, mussed from sleep. "**_**You had sex with a woman**_**."**_

_**Quinn nodded her verification.**_

"_**At the club?"**_

"_**Up against a wall in a dark corner," she affirmed.**_

_**One eyebrow inched upward in surprise. Then, Declan grinned, reaching out to shove his best friend. "Dude, you're **_**so**_** gay."**_

_**Quinn topped over, sliding beneath the covers beside him. She sighed. "Totally." She craned her head to peer into Declan's pale blue eyes.**_

"_**So what now?" **_

_**He shrugged. "Well, depends on how okay you are with that, I guess."**_

_**Quinn snuggled into his comforting embrace, laying her cheek on his chest as his strong arms wound around her.**_

"_**I think I'm okay with it."**_

_**She could feel his smile. "That's good, Q."**_

It had taken a random hook-up at a bar in college for Quinn to realize that she was gay. Through the subsequent other not so random hookups, she only solidified that realization. But in this moment, as Rachel gracefully eased down into the seat across from Quinn and crossed her legs, Quinn had never been more aware of just how gay she was.

So.

Much.

_Skin_.

Rachel had come out of her trailer in a teal, Grecian-inspired Alice and Olivia dress made of a flowy, fluttering silk chiffon. The moment Quinn had seen her and those tan, lean legs extending out from the tiered, sinfully short skirt just to tempt any person with that sort of preference…_Yeah_…

Quinn shook herself from her ruminations, gesturing to the bottle she had ordered when they had placed their dinner order. "Wine?"

Rachel shook her head with a smile. "No, thanks. We went pretty hard last night. I'm fairly certain indulging in some wine would not be the best idea at the moment."

"Celebrated your successful first day, huh?" At Rachel's nod, Quinn smirked. "I did the same thing after my first day at _Queen of Babble_. Learned the hard way that a Lemon Drop as either a martini or a shot is my weakness."

"I get you." Rachel nodded sagely. "You know that country song 'Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off'?"

"Yeah…"

Rachel pointed at herself, the three-quarter bell sleeves fluttering at the movement. "True story."

Quinn cocked her head. "I can't see you as getting to that point."

Rachel shot the blonde a deadpan look. "Santana."

"Ah, yes," Quinn nodded her understanding. "She does seem like the instigator."

"She's a sneaky little bitch," Rachel agreed.

"I'm still trying to figure out your relationship," Quinn confessed. "You two are like oil and water."

Rachel shrugged. "Santana's a mama bear. She can be cuddly, but attack her cubs, she goes into fierce protector mode. You've seen it."

"Firsthand, yes."

"Enough about me," Rachel declared. She propped an elbow on the table, supporting her chin with a fist. Big brown eyes twinkled imploringly at her costar. "I want to know about the ever elusive Quinn Lucas."

Quinn shrugged. "There's not much to tell," she hedged.

"Still," Rachel started singing a part of "Take Me There" by Rascal Flatts, "'_I wanna roll down Main Street and back roads like you did when you were a kid. What makes you who you are, tell me what your story is_…'"

One sculpted eyebrow inched upward. "Do you do that often?"

"Break randomly into song?" At Quinn's nod, Rachel hummed in the affirmative. "Sometimes, I envision my life as a musical, and I sing to highlight significant points."

Quinn couldn't help herself; she started to laugh. She waved away the waiter when he shot her a curious look as he placed their meals on the table.

"What?" Rachel looked scandalized, picking her silverware from the tabletop and spreading her napkin across her lap. "Don't you think the world would be a better place if everyone just sang to emphasize an important moment? It would certainly clarify ambiguous instances."

"No," Quinn choked out through her giggles. "I can't say that I do." She grinned at her costar, taking a drink of water to calm herself. "That just sounds like something out of a direct-to-video, _High School Musical_ sequel."

"Please," Rachel scoffed. "My life as a musical would beat up _High School Musical_ and steal its lunch money."

That comment set off Quinn's laughter once again, and the blonde snorted, covering the sound with her hand.

Rachel couldn't help but smile. As she laughed, Quinn's eyes lit up, her face completely relaxed. The tough mask that often shielded the blonde's features had vanished in this pure, uninhibited moment. "This is a good look on you," she commented.

Quinn calmed, wiping her eyes, the smile still on her face. "What is?"

"You free and laughing," Rachel responded. Her head tilted slightly. "You have a great smile. I wish I could see it more often."

The mask snapped back into place, but it was a little more transparent than before. Quinn shook her head. "That was cheesy."

Rachel shrugged unabashedly. "It's true. Seriously, though," Rachel persisted. "Tell me about yourself. Tell me something more than what I'd find on your IMDB page or whatever."

"Alright," Quinn acquiesced. "Well, I was actually born in Denver, Colorado, but my family moved to Ohio when I was a baby. We have that in common. We bounced around a couple of cities because of my father's job. Eventually, my family moved to San Diego the summer before my sophomore year of high school. I've lived in southern California ever since." She shrugged. "I don't know what else you want to know."

"Anything!" Rachel insisted. "Like…what did you do in high school?"

Quinn's nose wrinkled. "I was a cheerleader."

Rachel laughed. "Me too. What were you?"

"Tumbler, mostly."

Rachel nodded. "Santana too. Brittany was our best dancer, and I was a flyer. My poppa was ecstatic. He always dreamed if he had a daughter, she'd be a cheerleader. My daddy was just happy he had an excuse to go to the football games."

Quinn cocked her head. "Are your parents still married?"

Rachel shrugged, sobering slightly. "As married as they can get in the eyes of Ohio state law. They've been together for thirty years."

"My parents divorced at the end of my sophomore year," Quinn offered. "I don't talk to Russell, my father."

"I'm sorry."

Quinn shook her head. "Don't be. He's a hypocritical, narrow-minded bigot who thought himself a devout Christian man but cheated on my mom on his business trips. I'm closer with my mom anyway. She and my stepdad live in San Francisco."

"Do you have any siblings?"

Quinn nodded. "An older sister. She lives with her husband and two kids in Boston."

"At least you have them," Rachel commented. "I'm sorry if I pressed too hard."

Quinn waved a hand. "No, that's fine. I'm…happy. Now that he's not in my life, there's like less…I don't know, _pressure_."

"That must have been a difficult house to live in."

"A bit. Image was everything, so I was allowed to do whatever as long as I didn't tarnish the family image." Quinn surveyed Rachel closely. "You know, if I would have met you in Ohio, we couldn't have been friends."

"The two gay fathers thing?" Rachel ventured.

"Probably."

"I'm glad you're more enlightened than your father."

"The way I've always seen it, God's supposed to judge us all in the end," Quinn mused. "It's not my job to do it."

"I wish more people had that mindset," Rachel sighed. "Some straight couples are married and divorced in thirty days. My fathers have been together for thirty years, yet they are still not allotted the rights and benefits of a heterosexual couple."

Quinn nodded. "It definitely sucks," she agreed. "At least some strides have been taken in the last few years."

"That's true," Rachel conceded. She shook her head, eyes softening as she looked at Quinn. "I'm just happy such a wonderful person can come from a household of bigotry. If only people could see the same can occur in a homosexual household."

"You think I'm wonderful?"

Rachel smiled softly, placing her hand atop Quinn's. "You may portray yourself as this untouchable Ice Queen, Quinn Lucas, but no one can be as good an actress as you without thoroughly understanding human emotion. You don't fool me. So, yes, behind that chilly façade, I believe there is a wonderful person."

"When you're ready to show her, I'd like to meet her."

In retrospect, Quinn would identify that exact moment as the turning point that changed everything. And as she thought even more on that moment, she also mused that Santana was correct: Rachel Berry was supremely talented at weaseling information out of even the most closed-off person.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel hummed to herself as she skipped down the line of trailers. She was done for the morning, only a couple more scenes after lunch. She halted as she passed Quinn's trailer, surprised to hear a peculiar cacophony of noises floating from the depths. A weird series of explosions and bangs filtered through the door, but there was also a voice singing along to the music.

Unconsciously, Rachel followed the voice to the source, heading up the stairs. There was a sweet inflection to the crooning, almost a jazzy feel. She knocked softly before sticking her head in. To her surprise, Quinn was reclined back in the couch in front of a large TV, fingers frantically working against a video game controller and singing softly to the song playing from her speakers.

_Do you hear me?  
><em>_I'm talking to you  
><em>_Across the water across the deep blue ocean  
><em>_Under the open sky, oh my, baby I'm trying_

Rachel couldn't help herself and jumped in with the second verse.

_Boy I hear you in my dreams  
><em>_I feel your whisper across the sea  
><em>_I keep you with me in my heart  
><em>_You make it easier when life gets hard_

Quinn started, her eyes snapping to the door. Her lips tilted in a small smile as their voices harmonized with the chorus, waving Rachel in before returning her attention to the video game in front of her.

_I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend  
><em>_Lucky to have been where I have been  
><em>_Lucky to be coming home again_

Jason Mraz and Colbie Callait took over the vocals as Rachel grinned, settling down on Quinn's couch. "You've done it now, Miss Lucas," Rachel warned her, a devious expression stretching her features. "Now that I know you can sing, there will be many karaoke sessions in our future."

Quinn took a second to glare playfully before her eyes strayed to the TV. "I should kill you for scaring the crap out of me, but I must admit, I get why you won the Tony Award."

Rachel scrunched up her nose, cheeks tinged red. "Ugh, I cringe every time I catch a clip of my acceptance speech on YouTube or something. I sound so stupid!"

Quinn shrugged, pink tongue poking out adorably as her character popped up from cover, firing off a few rounds before advancing her position. "With so much emotion and adrenaline running through you, I'm surprised at anyone who _is_ eloquent."

Rachel watched with fascination and amusement as Quinn skillfully maneuvered her character through the destruction in front of her in the first-person game. "What are you playing?"

"Die, fucker! That's what you get, trying to sneak up on me," Quinn muttered, her character slashing out with a knife. "_Call of Duty: Modern Warfare_…whatever number they're on now." she answered, thumbs still moving erratically, her right index finger jabbing at the trigger button beneath the controller handle. "Declan got me into them when we were kids…Dammit, and I just died. Stupid grenades." She paused the game as her character regenerated, turning to her costar. "Any chance we'll be getting a taste of that Tony-winning voice some time on set?"

Rachel bit her lip. "Oh, I don't know about that…"

"Oh, come on, Berry," Quinn chided, tossing her controller onto the table in front of the couch. "Don't tell me you're one of those elitist performers who don't sing unless you're getting paid for it."

Rachel laughed, shaking her head. "No, I'm not. On principle, I never say no to an opportunity to exercise my talent. I'm just very careful about preserving my voice. I used to be fairly religious about the rest regimen and not taking too many superfluous performance opportunities and such while I was doing a show." Rachel shrugged. "I've relaxed slightly. Especially now that I'm not doing eight shows a week."

Quinn's eyes bulged. "You did eight shows a week while on Broadway?"

"Yup," Rachel answered. "That's pretty typical. Mondays are 'dark' which means that no shows are playing during the day. We have one show, typically at eight in the evening on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. Wednesday and Sundays are two-show days with a matinee and an evening performance."

"And did you ever call in sick?"

Rachel cocked her head, thinking for a bit. "Well, let's see…I was with _Millie_ for a little over two years, then did _Chicago_ for about four months. I would say in that time period, I called out less than ten times."

Quinn could admit that was very impressive. "How are you not suffering from chronic laryngitis?"

"I've conditioned my voice since I was a child to withstand the rigors of an eight-show week," Rachel explained. "It's similar to how a runner trains for a marathon." She nudged Quinn with a smile. "What about you? I didn't know you could sing."

Quinn shrugged. "Only my shower head really knows." She eyed Rachel closely. "I'm guessing karaoke bars are common in your evenings out."

Rachel shrugged. "I'm a consummate performer."

"What's your go-to?"

"Depends," Rachel answered. "I do a lot of Broadway classics. Obviously, those are suited to my voice, but I also like stuff by like Pat Benatar or Heart," Rachel answered. "'Love is a Battlefield' or 'Heartbreaker' are my favorites. You?"

"I'm a sucker for Stevie Nicks," Quinn admitted. "'Leather and Lace' if I have a good partner."

Rachel's eyes twinkled. "I'll keep that in mind."

At the devious look on the starlet's face, Quinn wondered if admitting such a thing was a prudent idea…

* * *

><p><em>Sloane reclined back in her seat while Mia bustled around, swiping a broom along the floor of the bakery. It had become common-place to find the Marine hanging around 'Sweet Rose' and waiting for the bakery owner. One day, around closing time, Sloane had appeared at the door, sitting down at the table in the corner, ordering a coffee and simply waiting. Mia would go about her tasks, cleaning up and closing the store before joining Sloane. They would just sit and talk, and Mia had taken to having Sloane serve as her taste-tester for any new concoction she was baking up at the moment.<em>

_ Mia paused as she finished wiping down the counter. "Can I ask you something?"_

_ Sloane shrugged, her index finger gently encircling the rum of her coffee mug. "Shoot."_

_ "Why did you join the military?"_

_ Sloane smiled ruefully. "I wanted to get out of Greensborough," she confessed. "I knew I wasn't as smart as my sister or as athletically gifted as my brother so getting some sort of scholarship was out of the question. The military was willing to pay for college if I enlisted." _

_She took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. "I dunno, I guess I liked the idea of doing something completely different than what I was 'supposed' to do."_

_Mia sank down into the chair across from her. "So you sat down one day and decided 'I'm going to be an aviator in the Marines?'"_

_Again, Sloane shrugged. "Kind of. When I was reading up on the things I could specialize in aviation kind of popped out at me. There's just something about flying, you know? Up there with the birds, looking down at everyone, the thrill of the situation, how precision is everything." She dropped her gaze, sheepishly. "I guess I was just tired of being 'pretty Sloane Gerard, the Homecoming Queen and Prom Queen'. Plus, I'd always loved_ Top Gun_…"_

_Mia chuckled, propping her chin on a fist. "I'm sure you were supremely ecstatic to find out you'd be flying a fighter jet."_

"_That was luck of the draw," Sloane corrected. "I mean, preference plays a role, but it's based more on need. Apparently, they needed fighter pilots."_

"_Please tell me you have an awesome call sign."_

"_I guess…" At Mia's expectant look, Sloane blushed, eyes dropping down, and she mumbled out a barely-intelligible word. "Vixen."_

"_Fitting." Mia surveyed her for a while. She leaned in, inches away from Sloane's face. "You want to know what I think?"_

_ "I want to know everything you could possibly want to tell me," Sloane responded, breathless at their proximity. The words that flew out of her mouth immediately registered and her face flushed again._

_ "You're cute," Mia giggled, reaching out and tapping the tip of Sloane's nose playfully. "I think that you were meant for more than whatever this town would have eventually pigeon-holed you into." _

_ A dreamy, wistful look encompassed Mia's features. "You were meant to…fly fighter jets over warzones, save people from whatever is over there." _

_ She shrugged, a small smile curling her lips. "You were just meant for more."_

_ "What about you?" Sloane countered, leaning back in her chair, eyes sparkling with a challenge. "There's no way this sleepy little town is your endgame."_

_ That sad smile once again melted over Mia's pretty features. "Sometimes, when you're in a big city, you get distracted by the big bright lights. You lose sight of the porch light on a tiny house…you know, the one that says someone's home and waiting."_

_ Sloane eyed Mia for a long moment as Mia smiled, finishing off the final tables. The pretty brunette had told her something in that brief exchange, and Sloane suspected it was very important._

* * *

><p>Quinn wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but she found herself constantly in the presence of Rachel Berry. It was like she had unconsciously placed a homing beacon on the little brunette that led her to her costar whenever either of them were free. She had taken to watching Rachel's scenes even if she wasn't featured, and they were often seen on their respective chairs, talking over coffee. On the set of <em>Queen of Babble<em>, Quinn would have never been seen casually chatting with her costars, even Kayla McKenzie, with whom she was the closest – so to speak, of course. But there she was, in plain view, sitting and talking to Rachel Berry.

At the moment, they were talking about Quinn's television show. Quinn had a smirk on her face and was teasing Rachel gently. Rachel had admitted she was a fan of the comedy and had slyly attempted to gather dirt about the upcoming season. The little diva glared at her costar, fists planted on her hips as best as they could in her seated position.

"Quinn! I do not appreciate you mocking me for what is a genuine interest! Your comedy is extremely well-scripted and you yourself play a truly wonderful character."

Quinn's smirk widened. "And who's to say I won't find the stuff I tell you on some fansite? I bet you have a username for one of those."

Rachel pouted adorably and looked away, leaving Quinn to bask smugly in her triumph.

A buzzing caught her attention, and Rachel glanced down as a familiar face filled her screen.

"Hello, Noah, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

The deep voice that had danced between the boundaries separating the baritone and tenor vocal ranges once upon a time rumbled through a chuckle. "Where the hell are my cookies, Starlet?"

Rachel giggled. "Now, Noah, certainly you don't believe that rude of a demand would warrant any sort of acquiescence, do you?"

She could hear him pouting through the connection. "That's just mean, Jew Babe! We can work something out, can't we?"

Quinn watched with fascination as Rachel played coy. "Like what?"

"Well, you could cash those VIP tickets and come see me play," Puck offered. "You have like a block of ten set aside for each home game. We're in the middle of a home stretch, so I'll be in town for a couple of weeks. We could all go out after. Whattya say?"

Rachel grinned. "You'd pry yourself away from your groupies for me?"

Puck's voice took on a softness that Rachel could only induce. "Aw, you know you're my best girl, Rach." There was a pause before he amended his statement slightly. "Aside from Mom and Ruthie, of course."

Rachel laughed, shaking her head. For all his bluster, Noah Puckerman would do anything for the women in his life. "Of course, Noah."

"So will you be there?" He sounded too eager. She made a mental note to tease him about it later.

"How could I miss it?" Rachel posed.

"Awesome! Brit and Satan gonna make it, too?"

"I would imagine so," Rachel answered thoughtfully.

"Sweet! I'll reserve one of the suites for you guys." There was a commotion over the phone, and Rachel smirked as she heard Noah yelling. "Calm down, idiot, I'm talking to Rachel! I'll be out there in a second. You should be happy. Each second I'm not out there means another second you're not eating grass." She giggled as he came back on the line. "I gotta go, Rach. I'll see you this weekend, Jew Babe. I expect a batch of your best cookies!"

"Alright, Noah."

Quinn cocked an eyebrow. That wasn't just a random conversation. It had the warmth and comfortable air that a conversation with a loved one would. "What was that about?"

Rachel grinned. "Apparently my baked goods are worth the price of a block of tickets for the Charger's game on Sunday.

"Wait," Quinn halted her with a slash of the hand. "Are you telling me you have tickets to _this weekend's_ Charger's game?"

"Yes," Rachel affirmed. "Apparently, we have a suite reserved for us." She shrugged. "I haven't followed football that much though because of the Giants' abysmal season."

"It's the biggest game of the regular season!" Quinn returned. "The winner clinches the division! It's been sold-out for weeks. How did you manage that?"

"A former classmate of mine currently plays for the Chargers," Rachel answered. "Noah Puckerman."

"As in their star middle linebacker, nicknamed The Hit Man?" Quinn looked absolutely enthralled - well, as enthralled as she could look. "He's my favorite player! That's some pretty swanky company you keep, Berry."

"Please," Rachel snorted with a wave of her hand. "Noah wouldn't have even thought about college football or the NFL without me nagging him in high school."

"God, that's gonna be a great freakin' game," Quinn bemoaned.

Rachel cocked her head. "Well, we have the weekend off. You want to go? The executive suite he reserved has room for a lot of people, you can bring some friends if you wish."

Quinn worried her bottom lip, shooting a sideways glance to Rachel. "Would I be totally weird if I wished you were going to offer?"

"No," Rachel answered with a chuckle. "I was planning on asking you anyway. I figured you were a Chargers fan since you're from San Diego. Honestly, I just watch for Noah. Just let me know how many people you plan on bringing."

It took every ounce of control for Quinn to keep the impassive look on her face when she really wished to bounce out of her seat and tackle Rachel to the ground. She shrugged nonchalantly. "Just me and Declan, my manager. It's not big deal if you can't fit us."

The look Rachel sent her was so deadpanned that Quinn knew she wasn't fooling the starlet one bit, and Quinn wondered just how her mask had managed to slip around the little diva. Rachel smiled, looking down to her phone.

"I'll tell Noah to add you to the guest list."

xxx-xxx-xxx

The Sunday that followed soon after was a perfect day for football. It was a slightly chilly – well, as chilly as San Diego could get – but the sun was shining brightly against a cloudless baby blue sky. There was an aura of excitement surrounding Qualcomm Stadium, a veritable tension as fans for both the Chargers and their opponents, the Oakland Raiders, swarmed the grounds, ready for a truly epic day of football.

Quinn and Declan had gotten there fairly earlier, a car service dropping them off right to the VIP entrance where they were ushered up to the suite reserved for them. They were the first ones there, and Quinn took a lap around the luxurious accoutrements scattered around the suite.

"Wow."

Declan whistled at the swanky accommodations. "Is it bad to say that I'm a little in love with Rachel Berry right now?"

Quinn shook her head. "No way, because I am too."

Declan smirked.

Quinn's eyes flashed warningly. She knew what that smirk meant. "Don't start, D."

The smirk transitioned into a cheeky grin. "I didn't say nothin'."

Quinn lifted her head as the door to the suite flew open. Rachel and Brittany appeared, the taller blonde carrying Santana in a fireman's hold as the Latina yelled to some random fan.

"That's right, come see me! We'll see who's laughing at the end of the game. You better hope my boy Puck doesn't put your QB in a coma!"

"C'mon, San!" Rachel urged, rolling her eyes at her best friend. "Save some for the game."

Bending over, Brittany deposited Santana back on her feet. The Latina crossed her arms over her chest.

"I coulda taken him!"

Rachel shook her head. "Uh, yeah, he was like twelve. But I'm not having you risking assault and battery charges over a football game." She looked up spotted Quinn and a handsome, dark-haired man in a Junior Seau jersey watching them curiously.

"Hi!"

Instinctively, Quinn returned the grin, ignoring Declan's insistent poke to her side. "Hi." She eyed their companions with a nod. "You guys are ready for the game."

All three girls had some form of Charger's apparel. Brittany an off-the-shoulder gray top with encircling the bolt logo, a navy blue cap perched atop her braided pigtails. Santana boasted a loud, sequined shirt in a myriad of powder blue, navy blue, white, and gold, the team logo by the hem of the shirt and the bolt logo by her right breast.

Quinn wasn't sure whether she should laugh or tell Santana that Liberace called, and he wanted his shirt back. She merely smirked. "That is some shirt, Lopez."

Santana glared. "Don't make fun of the shirt."

Rachel grinned, eyeing Santana's shirt as well. "It's her lucky shirt. Every time she's worn it, the Chargers won." Rachel slid her jacket off her shoulders, her slender torso clad in the throwback powder blue home jersey. The 69 number and name on the back boasted her allegiance to her Jew Bro. The captain's patch with two gold stars sat proudly on the right breast.

Quinn whistled as she took in the jersey, way too well-stitched and sized perfectly to Rachel to be a replica. "Pretty awesome jersey, Berry."

Rachel shrugged. "Noah got it for me when he was drafted by San Diego. I added the captain's patch when he was appointed two years ago. I'm quite proud of his accomplishments." She beamed. "And I see you're appropriately attired as well."

Quinn was wearing a powder blue, zip up hooded sweatshirt with the Charger's crest and team name over a gray tank top with the gold and blue bolt across the chest. "One of my many Charger-themed ensembles," she admitted.

Quinn reached behind her, tugging Declan forward. "Oh, everyone, this is Declan Riley, my manager and best friend." She introduced the three girls. "Declan, Santana Lopez, Brittany Pierce, and my costar, Rachel Berry."

Declan raised a hand and waved. "Nice to meet you all. I've heard great things."

Santana had started snooping around the suite, humming her satisfaction as she noticed the fully-stocked bar and the buffet table set up with anything a die-hard football fan would need, even with vegan options in deference to Rachel.

"Geeze, Puck totally came through." She snagged a buffalo wing, dipping it in dressing. "This is some serious swag."

She scarfed down the wing, wiping her mouth with a napkin and joining Rachel in the seats overlooking the field. Rachel waved to the three coolers filled to the brim with alcohol. "Help yourselves, guys," she offered, cracking a can of Bud Light. "Are you going to play the drinking game with us?"

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "You guys have a drinking game?"

Rachel shrugged. "Doesn't everybody? We have one for your…" Her eyes widened, and she clamped her mouth shut.

"Because you got us into this killer suite, I'll let that go for now," Quinn teased.

Declan stooped down, snagging a can from the group. "So what are the rules to this drinking game?"

Rachel toasted him with a grin. "Well, every time Noah does his ridiculous tackle celebration, we take a drink."

"Every time he gets a sack in the backfield, we take a drink," Santana continued.

"And every time the Chargers score, we chug," Brittany finished.

Declan lofted an eyebrow. "You're all gonna be shit-faced by the time this is over."

Santana mirrored his expression. "Isn't that the point of every drinking game in existence?"

Declan conceded that point as the announcer's voice caught their attention, signaling the start of the pre-game ceremonies. The welcome message boomed through the stadium, announcing the team as fireworks lit up the afternoon sky, the Charger Girls lining the tunnel. As he went through the starting lineup, Puck's name was met with a burst of noise up at the executive suite.

"AT MIDDLE LINEBACKER, FROM TEXAS, NUMBER SIXTY-NINE, NOAH PUCKERMAN!"

They settled into the chairs in front of the large window, looking down to the field below. Oakland had won the toss, opting to receive for the first half. After a short reception, San Diego's defense jogged onto the field, led by Puck. The girls cheered as they turned their attention to the large television showing the simultaneous NBC television broadcast. The defensive starters flashed onto the screen, stating their name and alma mater. Puck's stern face practically growled out his introduction, intimidating even in the two-second shot.

"_Noah Puckerman, Texas"_

Quinn shook her head. She may be gay, but she could admit Noah Puckerman was extremely attractive. "Geeze, he is one good-looking man. He always looks so sharp."

Rachel lofted a hand. "Uh, you can thank us for that. He thought a mohawk was an acceptable haircut for _years_."

"We totally made him shave it when we found out he was going to be on TV regularly," Brittany added.

Santana snorted. "Uh, more like you and I sat on him while Rachel took the clippers to his scalp."

Rachel nodded, remembering the moment fondly. "That was funny."

As the game wore on, Quinn found that they were a loud, boisterous group. Quinn jumped as Santana leapt to her feet, Spanish spewing from her mouth. Quinn was certain that none of it was fluffy and happy.

"_¡Hijo de perra, cierra el hueco! Pareces una puta nena, agarra al pendejo ese y mandalo al suelo como si fueras un hombre de verdad_."

To her surprise, Rachel was right beside Santana, out of her seat, pointing emphatically at the screen, and hollering at the top of her lungs. "Holding, ref! That's a fucking hold! Look at his fucking jersey. I'm fairly certain when he got dressed before the game, his name was on his back, not under his armpit!"

Of course, that same enthusiasm carried over to offense, and Quinn was supremely happy that they weren't out in the stands, knowing for sure that the words coming from Santana and Rachel would have started some sort of altercation.

"Throw it! Dammit, throw the ball!" Quinn smirked as a mix of English and Spanish rang through the room. "C'mon!_ Que la pases estupido. ¡Como eres idiota!"_

Rachel chimed in as the San Diego quarterback took off out of the pocket, half of the Oakland defensive line chasing him. "Run! Run!" She groaned as the quarterback slid down just short of the first down marker, forcing the linebacker already lowered in preparation for the tackle to leap over him to avoid a personal foul. "Oh, come on, take the hit! That's a first down you passed up, you pussy!"

Brittany, for her part, wasn't quite as loud – or profane – but she was eerily accurate in predicting the sequence of plays happening on the field.

"Oakland's gonna run it," Declan murmured. "One good bust up the middle."

"No," Brittany refuted, with a decisive shake of her head. "Play action. Oakland's gonna try a short slant route since San Diego's in Cover 2. I'm not sure that's a good idea, though. Puck's good at keeping the middle clear."

Sure enough, Oakland's quarterback took the snap, extending his arm to the back charging forward before tucking the ball back in and looking up to the field. He didn't bother setting as the outside linebacker blew through the line, merely dumping the ball over the middle to his receiver.

The Oakland receiver leapt up to get the slightly high pass, only to be met by two hundred-plus pounds of pure muscle as Puck leveled him back down to the grass. The ball popped up at the force of the hit, plopping harmlessly to the field.

_Oh my, what a hit! Noah Puckerman lights up D'Angelo, and the Hit Man adds another victim to his list!_

"Here it comes!" Rachel hollered.

Puck scrambled up as the play was whistled dead. He stomped away from the downed player, pointing up to the stands as he began his trademark celebration. Puck thumped his chest twice with both fists before bending backward, flexing his arms out, mirrored by Rachel, Santana, and Brittany in their suite as the announcers crowed at the play.

Quinn looked on in awe at the tiny girl, cheering along with the crowd below them, swearing at the players, and slinging beer back with the best of them. The game continued on in front of her, but it was almost more entertaining to watch Rachel and Santana react. Quinn shook her head as Rachel and Santana chest bumped as the Charger running back shot through a gap for a big gain. Where the hell had this girl been all this time?

"Dude," Declan whispered to her as the three women cheered as the Charger wide receiver cruised into the end zone, smashing their beer cans together and throwing back the alcohol. The moment the cans were devoid of any liquid, all three burst into a bizarre victory dance of some sort that culminated in them spiking the empty can to the ground. "We have _got_ to hang out with them more often."

xxx-xxx-xxx

The game ended on a high note with the Chargers thoroughly thrashing the Raiders. The group huddled together, waiting by the locker room, guarded covertly by a group of security guards. They didn't have to wait long for Puck to appear after showering, changing, and dealing with the post-game press conferences. He busted out, arms outstretched, hollering at the top of his lungs, "Come to papa!" Rachel, Santana, and Brittany obliged, and his large, muscular arms seemed to just fit around the three fairly petite women. With a wide grin, he lifted them all bodily in an exuberant hug. Setting them down, Rachel tugged over to where Quinn and Declan stood.

"Noah, I'd like you to meet my costar, Quinn Lucas, and her manager, Declan Riley."

Puck shook hands with Declan before his eyes turned to Quinn. The light brown eyes, fleck liberally with green roamed up and down the woman in front of him. Full lips framed by slight stubble tilted upward in a lecherous grin. "Damn, you're hotter in person."

He flinched as blows came simultaneously from all three girls. Brittany swung at his arm, Rachel backhanded his stomach, and Santana smacked him upside the head.

Puck rolled his eyes, sticking out a hand. "I meant…It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lucas. You're even more radiant up close."

Quinn smirked, accepting the hand. She shot a look to Rachel. "You guys trained him well."

Rachel beamed as Puck snatched her up in his arms again. She reached up to run an affectionate hand over the closely-trimmed hair on his head. "He can be a good boy when he wants to. Texas was good for his manners."

"Now can I tell her she's hot?" Puck grinned again, stopping just shy of a leer. "'Cuz you are, you know."

"I think you just did," Rachel deadpanned.

Puck shrugged unapologetically. "Nothing wrong with appreciating a fine female, JB." He kissed her cheek, dropping her to the ground, and straightened the gray sport coat that molded nicely to his muscled torso. "Now, c'mon. I've got a car waiting. The Puckzilla's gonna take you guys out." He looked to Rachel, a slightly evil smile encompassing his handsome features. "And I'm gonna dish some serious dirt about Miss Rachel Berry."

A spring in his step, he bounded away amidst Rachel's horrified shriek.

"Noah, don't you dare!"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn looked around at their table, musing to herself. They were a bit of a motley crew, out of place in their Charger's regalia, surely violating the dress code of the expensive, fancy restaurant. However, as was common, the place made some concessions for the amount of star-quality three of them had.

The maître'd had led them to a private table, well out of the way of the rest of the restaurant and shielded from whatever paparazzo might be lurking around the corner. The conversation flowed smoothly and naturally, with barely a lull between topics. Quinn found herself thoroughly amused at the constant anecdotes exchanged between Rachel, Santana, Brittany, and Puck, most of the time chronicling what Puck seemed to liberally deem 'the most epic Jewish bromance. Ever."

"Rachel's my Jew Babe," Puck had explained. "Totally platonic thing going on."

Santana held up a finger. "Wait, that's not entirely true…"

"Dude, better she lose her V-Card to me than Finnept, the Mighty One Minute Man!" Puck shot back. "He wouldn't have been inside of her long enough to enjoy it. Plus, Daddy B would have been less likely to castrate me for deflowering his little girl."

The three women who knew Rachel's fathers best nodded their agreement. Rachel's daddy, Officer Miles Berry of the Lima Police Department, loved Puck like a son and had been the one who properly taught him football when they were young. As incensed as he was that his little girl was engaging in sex, he was at the very least comforted in the fact that he knew Puck would take good care of Rachel. That was the only thing that had saved the Puckerman clan from extinction.

As the conversations continued, Quinn kept her mask in place, contributing but mostly observing. These were the people who knew Rachel best, and they had so much to say and share. Some of the stories were funny, some exciting, and some had her shaking her head. Apparently, Rachel and Puck thought it would be hilarious to sneak into their high school and rotate every piece of furniture in their English classroom ninety degrees. Wistfully, she wished she had such a support system like Rachel's when she was younger: A tough, strong presence to kick her ass in gear like Santana, a bubbly, happy presence for comfort when things got tough like Brittany, and a mischievous, impish presence to keep things light and fun like Puck. And, of course, the foundation of support like Rachel's dads and mom had given her. Seeing Rachel so comfortable and happy made Quinn wonder what her life would have been like if she had the same support system.

"Quinn?"

She looked up to find a pair of chocolate eyes staring at her. Rachel reached over, placing a hand over the blonde's. "Are you alright?"

Quinn smiled that small, twitch of the lips she swore was her smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

The little diva's brow furrowed with concern, but she let it go, adding her own two cents to the story Puck was telling. Once again, Quinn wondered when her mask had slipped when it came to Rachel Berry.

xxx-xxx-xxx

The night wound down to its natural conclusion, and the group piled into the car Rachel had called. Puck was the first to be dropped off with his promised batch of cookies. He pointed to his Jew Babe, mentioning he would set aside some more tickets for the weekends Rachel would still be in California, stating that Quinn and Declan were more than welcome to come along as well. His departure was followed closely by Declan, the handsome man reaching out to hug Santana and Brittany, promising them to follow through on the lunch date the three had scheduled later in the week. The last stop was Quinn's house, and Rachel climbed out with the blonde as she exited.

Thoroughly relaxed by the sheer amount of alcohol she had consumed throughout the day, Quinn eyed Rachel. "What are you doing, Little Bit?"

Rachel smiled, her face a bit red from her own consumption. "I'm walking you up."

Quinn inclined her head. "How gentlemanly."

Rachel merely held out an arm, bent at the elbow. Quinn smirked, sliding her hand into the crook and allowing Rachel to lead them up the walk. They stopped at Quinn's door, and the blonde offered out a small smile.

"Should I be scared that Declan, Santana, and Brittany got along so well and are now making plans?"

Rachel shook her head with a laugh. "I don't think so. Brittany tends to temper Santana's...undesirable tendencies."

Quinn nodded. "Good." She cleared her throat, scratching the back of her neck. "Thanks for inviting me."

Rachel beamed. "It was my pleasure. I feel like we've certainly achieved her goal of getting to know one another. I certainly learned a lot about you."

Quinn nodded shortly as she thought back to the last couple weeks. Sure enough, just as Santana predicted, she had gradually been opening up to Rachel. "Starting small, then spilling the guts," Quinn muttered under her breath. "I really hope it doesn't get to the bawling like a baby part..."

Rachel's head tilted at the peculiar statement. "I'm sorry?"

Quinn shook her head, realizing she had just spoken out loud. "Just something Santana said to me."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "She wasn't being mean, was she?"

Again, Quinn shook her head. "No, she just told me something that I realized was really true. It's nothing."

Rachel didn't look convinced. "Alright," she conceded. "So I'll see you Monday?"

Quinn nodded. "Lunch on our break?"

Again, that sunny smile appeared, and Quinn nearly melted right then and there. "Count on it."

As she let herself inside, alotting her final memory of the night to be that beaming Rachel Berry smile, Quinn let out a shuddering exhale, leaning back against her front door.

"Dammit, Q…"

A slight rumble caught her attention, and she looked down to find Charlie waiting for her. The Labrador tilted his head, gazing at her imploringly.

"Yeah, yeah, Charlie," she grumbled. "I know…I so friggin' _screwed_."

Charlie nodded, turning around and padding back to his bed. At least she was aware of it…

xxx-xxx-xxx

It seemed to be a consensus among the _Duty and Honor_ crew: Rachel Berry seemed to be the singular soul that had the ability to crack through Quinn Lucas's impenetrable façade. When she was on camera, she fully immersed herself in the character of Sloane Gerard, playing the soft-spoken, serious Marine perfectly, her interaction with her fellow characters unforced and natural. But off, she remained the same, untouchable Ice Queen…except when it came to Rachel. If the crew was surprised at how quick their resident frosty star had taken to her new leading lady when she had such a reputation of being so reclusive, they kept it quiet. But it wouldn't be Hollywood if there weren't some whispers behind closed doors.

Currently, the stars in question were in Quinn's trailer, running lines for one of the scenes they had to shoot for the day. Quinn was already dressed for her scene, the thin, gray scoop-neck tank top, layered over a black ribbed tanktop showing off her leanly muscled arms rather nicely. She leaned over, loosely tying the laces to the black combat boots perched at the end of her dark skinny jeans as Rachel finished the final line.

Rachel closed her script, sighing happily. "This is such a lovely story."

Quinn nodded her agreement. "Chris has surely got a gem in this one," she concurred. "He's never been afraid to tackle the controversial topics."

Rachel moved toward the rack where she had stashed her costume, unbuttoning her jeans and slipping them off, sliding into the white jean shirt that was to be part of the scene.

Quinn swallowed hard at the expanse of leg in her vision, forcing herself to stay calm.

"I still don't know what possessed him to choose me for the recast," Rachel murmured, slipping her feet into a pair of navy blue and white wedge sandals and buckling the strap.

"Don't really care," Quinn commented negligently. "You're leagues better than Jen Wolfe ever was."

Rachel giggled. "You don't like her very much, do you?"

Quinn shook her head. "She embodies everything that's fake about this business."

"Quinn Lucas, don't tell me you're an elitist," Rachel teased as she crossed her arms, grabbing the hem of her shirt and whipping it over her head as she grabbed the loose, crewneck button-up that served as her top. Something on Rachel's back caught Quinn's eye in the mirror.

"Rachel, what's that on your back?"

Rachel rotated around, showing the tattoo spanning across her shoulder blades. A large gold star sat just beneath her neck bearing a date in the middle. A banner boasted the words "I dreamed a dream" and wove in and out through the swirling, smaller gold stars shooting out from the middle star.

"Oh, I got this on my eighteenth birthday and just added to it through the years," Rachel explained.

Quinn stepped closer, eyeing the tattoo. "What does it all mean?"

"'I dreamed a dream' is from _Les Miserable_," Rachel began. "It represents my Broadway dream. The date in the middle is the date I won my Tony Award, the date to the far right is was my Broadway debut, and the date to the far left is the date I graduated from Tisch."

"You must really like stars," Quinn commented, tracing the swirling pattern connecting the smaller stars.

"Gold stars are kind of my thing," Rachel answered. "They're a metaphor."

Quinn's eyes snapped to Rachel, her fingers halting in their perusal. She had heard that before. Those exact words over ten years ago on the dirty floor of an Akron, Ohio high school.

There was no way.

No.

Possible.

_Way_.

"Really?" Quinn coaxed, knowing Rachel was bound to take the bait and explain her reasoning.

"When I was younger, I was bullied by my classmates for having two gay fathers as well as my rather emphatic ambitions towards a prospective Broadway career," Rachel responded. "I adopted the stars as a symbol that the same kids who were bullying me will one day be stuck in our small town, trying to relive their high school years because those years were the best of their lives while I was somewhere bigger and better, shining brighter than they ever would."

It was almost word for word what she had heard so long ago. Quinn nearly smacked herself across the face. Her mysterious savior who had rescued her from her locker prison and had gifted her with the faded star dangling from her key chain was none other than Rachel Berry. And Rachel Berry was standing in front of her.

"That's amazing," Quinn murmured, her mind whirling in about twenty different directions.

"Thank you," Rachel answered, buttoning up the pinstriped, light blue top and folding the sleeves loosely below her elbows. "And I take great pleasure in the validation that my prediction came true."

Quinn nodded blankly, grabbing her script as she blindly led the way out of the trailer.

Rachel noticed the pensive look on Quinn's face as they walked towards the set. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Quinn assured her. "Nothing at all."

They continued along in silence until Rachel squealed. Quinn started, eyes snapping to the little diva, only to find she was no longer beside her. Rachel had bolted forward, running towards an unfamiliar man standing just in front of the set. She leaped into his arms, giggling madly. He twirled her around, setting her down and pressing a long kiss to her lips.

"Ohmigod, what are you doing here? When did you get here?"

Rachel's voice filtered through Quinn's hearing, chattering with questions that blended together in one long ramble. With another high-pitched squeal, Rachel threw her arms around the man again. Taking his hand, she tugged him to a stop in front of Quinn who looked at the proceedings with her Ice Queen visage firmly in place.

"Quinn, this is Brady Shaw, my boyfriend."

Quinn smiled tightly, resisting the urge to grind her teeth together.

Of course he was.

As Rachel yammered on through some further introductions, Quinn flicked a gaze up to the heavens and once again cursed the Big Man.

Cheeky.

Calculating.

_Bastard_.

* * *

><p><strong>Spanish translations, courtesy of Azuri-chan:<strong>

_¡Hijo de perra, cierra el hueco! Pareces una puta nena, agarra al pendejo ese y mandalo al suelo como si fueras un hombre de verdad:_ Son of a bitch, close the hole! You're being a fucking girl, grab that jerk and shove him to the ground like if you were a real man!

__Que la pases, estupido. ¡Como eres idiota!: __Pass it already stupid. You're an idiot!

* * *

><p><em>Well, there you go. The songs used in this chapter are "Take Me There" by Rascal Flatts and "Lucky" by Jason Mraz and Colbie Callait. Bonus points if you can name who I modeled Lindsay after…I might be nice and give you something good – like a sneak peek to a part of the next chapter? Lol. Speaking of, next chapter is the aftermath of Quinn's revelation. Will this new knowledge affect their relationship on set? And how will Brady shake things up? It'll be fun, I will give it that.<em>

_ I know this is a long chapter with a lot of things happening, and I hope I paced it out right. It may seem like Quinn has really opened up to Rachel, but most of this stuff is just basic information, the surface stuff. What we're waiting for is the core of Quinn, the emotions that she's kept buried down beneath the Ice Queen façade. That being said, one of my biggest indecisions was exactly when Quinn would find out that Rachel was the girl who saved her. Then, I figured that it would be so much fun to watch Quinn deal with this revelation and struggle with these feelings rather than them building up a relationship and then Quinn finds out who Rachel is. This way, Quinn must separate this immortal figure she's built up in her mind with the reality of who Rachel is and how she is a flawed human just like anyone else. I hope you stay tuned for all that._

_Oh! And follow me on Twitter as inkstainedpinky. I'll be posting things like timelines to future updates, little sneak peeks, and of course, I'll answer any questions posed. Hope to see you there!_

_And I'm on the lookout for a beta for editing and basically to bounce ideas off of. If anyone is interested, let me know. If anything, you get a sneak peek of the chapter before anyone else…if that's incentive enough._

_*ISP_


	6. Chapter 5

_Alright! New chapter! Sorry for the delay. Work got insanely crazy this past week, and I had to hustle to catch up and stay on task. Plus, this chapter for some reason gave me a bit of trouble. No worries, though, I persevered in the end!_

_For anyone wondering, Lindsay was in fact modeled after the delectably gorgeous Angie Harmon. I was watching Rizzoli & Isles as I wrote that last chapter, so blame it on that, lol. Lindsay will actually reappear in the future, so stay tuned for that._

_And I made an error in the last chapter. I stated that Quinn was pursuing a degree in psychology. Then I remembered that I mentioned Quinn was studying the social contract theory way back in the prologue when she meets her agent, Grace Carson, which is actually a theory in philosophy. So, just to clarify, Quinn was a philosophy major. I know, it's like miniscule, but eh…I'm anal about those sorts of things._

_The theme of this chapter is things aren't always as they seem. Have fun!_

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 5<span>

_**Quinn had firmly solidified herself in her persona as untouchable Hollywood A-lister Quinn Lucas, but there were times she didn't mind returning to her roots as Lucy Quinn Fabray.**_

_** Her sister's wedding was one of them.**_

_** She made the trek down to the Hamptons where the wedding was to be held during a break in filming for **_**Queen of Babble**_**. She felt slightly remiss in simply showing up for the rehearsal dinner, just managing to make the bachelorette party, but Francine had been so excited to have her, it all seemed to be a moot point. It was the day that Francine Eleanor Fabray would become Francine Eleanor Prescott, and the elder Fabray girl was ever so happy to finally drop their much-despised surname.**_

_** Quinn stood tall at the head of a group of five women in the knee-length, strapless, ruched dress Frannie allotted to her wedding party. The bust with the deep, nearly black purple, transitioning smoothly to the lighter purple, then darkening to the deep purple again. It was an interesting color scheme, but she supposed Frannie could have done a whole lot worse. She looked to where her mother sat, snuggled beneath the arm of Dr. Liam Thorton, a psychologist she had met while being counseled through her divorce. Quinn reveled in the glow of her newlywed mother, a little under a year into her second marriage, delighted that the elder blonde had finally found a happy and fulfilling partnership. Judy Thorton, née Fabray, believed in love again.**_

_** Quinn glanced across the altar where her sister's soon-to-be husband stood and laughed at the irony of it all. Her sophomore year in college, Frannie met and fell in love with a graduate student named Trey Prescott. The first time she had brought him to meet the family, the Fabrays had been a bit unsettled by the scruffy, ruffled academic. He was a handsome, intelligent, kind-hearted man, but he was certainly far from the clean-cut Christian Russell had in mind for his Princess. In fact, Trey had labeled himself an agnostic while "occasionally dabbling in Buddhist principles" after he had gone on an anthropologic study in India. The worst part was, Trey was a Democrat. Russell had been two seconds away from tossing Trey out on his ass after he had heard that little nugget. Little did they know, the slightly boho, slightly beatnik Trey Prescott was actually Davis John Prescott, III. And he was filthy rich. As in heir to a billion-dollar industry filthy, dirty rich.**_

_** She had to admit it was funny to see Trey in a three-piece tuxedo rather than his normal beat-up boat shoes, worn chinos, and one of his many array of peculiar-patterned sweaters. The now doctoral candidate had actually shaved, and his short, light brown hair had been combed back into some semblance of order. She knew very well that that little change had come from a pout from her sister. It had to be love, she decided. Trey only shaved when he absolutely had to. He seemed to sport a perpetual five o'clock shadow. But looking at him now, there was no denying he wasn't happy, a gleeful sheen in his dark blue eyes.**_

_** She saw her sister, absolutely resplendent in her wedding gown, looking very much like the classic fairytale princess, the Cinderella to Trey's Prince Charming. She had never seen Frannie happier, and she was glad that her elder sister had found someone to love.**_

_** Trey's best man, Nate Something-Or-Other had been fervently trying to catch her eye. Quinn, however, was much more interested in one of her sister's bridesmaids. Kendall O'Shea was Frannie's best friend, her sorority sister who owned a successful restaurant in Boston. The pretty redhead had sported quite the attractive blush when Frannie had introduced television star Quinn Lucas as her sister and maid of honor at the rehearsal dinner. It had caused quite a stir amidst the wedding party. Quinn's gaydar may slowly be synching, but even she knew when someone was giving her The Eye.**_

_** At the reception, Quinn started her hunt slowly: little touches, fingers lingering, looks holding just a tad bit too long. She brought out the eyes, slightly hooded, throwing out the subtle wink. She made sure to lean in close to Kendall every time she needed to say something, pouring on the charm. She may have built a reputation as an Ice Queen, but she knew how to work her game just enough to reel in prey if she so wished. Plus, she thought the Ice Queen thing only added to the mystique and allure.**_

_** She gently guided Kendall to a secluded corner of the grounds of the estate Trey booked for the reception – a rather lavish and luxurious locale if she was being honest. Presently, she had the redhead pinned against a railing and was currently attached to her neck. She smirked as a particularly aggressive nip prompted a deep moan, and Kendall's hands clutched at her back and hair, anchoring Quinn down. Quinn fit herself between Kendall's legs, one hand braced on the stone railing behind the redhead. A hand had just snuck up the hem of Kendall's bridesmaid dress and was gently meandering up to the when she was roughly yanked away from Kendall and whirled around. It took her a bit to reorient herself, but when she did, she found herself face-to-face with Russell Fabray. **_

_**Quinn involuntary shivered. The stench of alcohol wafting from his breath brought back the roughest memories of her childhood. Whisky without a doubt, Johnnie Walker Blue Label if she remembered correctly. If Russell was going to be a drunk, he was going to be an expensive drunk, propriety be damned. Frankly, she was surprised Frannie had even extended the invitation, let alone that Russell actually attended. Be that as it were, Russell was not part of any of the ceremony, and Frannie walked down the aisle alone to her groom.**_

_** "What the hell is going on here?"**_

_** Quinn didn't answer for a second, taking the time to absorb this version of her father. Before, he used to take such care with his appearance: ironed shirts, pressed khakis, and his hair neatly combed. Now, in a rumpled navy suit, his shirt tail hanging half out of his waistband, and his tie dangling loosely from his neck – he hadn't even bothered to tie it properly – Russell Fabray was a mere shadow of that past self, a sad, unhappy man. It was right then that she realized that she had long stopped being afraid of Russell Fabray. Rather, she was more annoyed at the fact she was quite literally two seconds away from the promise land. Quinn rolled her eyes at her father.**_

"_**I believe that you've just effectively cockblocked me," she drawled. "For a lack of a better term."**_

_** Russell's face reddened, his eyes flicking from Quinn to Kendall, taking in the evidence of their obviously amorous encounter. Thrown, he took a moment before finally spluttering out, "Y-You…you're…"**_

_** "Gay?" Quinn supplied, rotating so that Russell's attention was solely on her and away from Kendall. "Homosexual? Lesbian?" She cocked her head thoughtfully, pretending to ponder it for a long second. "Why, yes I am."**_

_** "It's bad enough that your sister is marrying a hippie liberal, but you're a dyke, too?" Russell advanced on his daughter, snatching her up by the arms. "You've sunk to a filthy, degenerate lifestyle. And I thought you couldn't be more of a heathen. High school was only the beginning of your life of sin, and you were aptly punished for it."**_

_** Rage filled Quinn's vision. There were certain things that simply set her off, and mentioning that one thing was it. Bunching her fists in front of her, she broke her father's hold on her, pushing him back. Before she could properly register her actions, her right fist flew forward crashing into his face. Surprised at the delivery and strength of the blow, the elder man tumbled back to fall in a heap at his daughter's feet, bleeding from his nose and mouth.**_

_** "That filthy, degenerate lifestyle has made me happy," Quinn declared, standing over her downed father, the adrenaline pounding through her ears. "I would have given anything to hear that you were proud of me. I tried to be everything you wanted me to, and it was never enough. It will never be enough." She advanced slowly. "I don't need your approval anymore. I don't need **_**you**_**." **_

_** "I never raised you to be a dyke," Russell spat, scooting back. "I raised you to be a good Christian who followed the Bible and His word."**_

_** Quinn didn't answer for a beat. She merely surveyed Russell in all of his self-righteous glory. She used to think this man could do no wrong. She used to think that everything he said was so smart and knowledgeable. Now all she saw was a sanctimonious hypocrite who hid behind the religious, moral pretense he so staunchly preached but conveniently forgot in his own moments of temptation. **_

"_**You constantly spew your preaching and your rhetoric," Quinn countered, squaring up to her father. "But that's all you have, isn't it? You hide behind it but you don't follow it." Quinn stood straight, spine steeled, eyes blazing. "I'm done being the scared little girl."**_

_** "Tell me, Russell," Quinn snarled her father's first name like it was a disease. "What pisses you off more? The fact that everyone has moved on and found happiness or the fact that no one needs you?"**_

_** "You're worthless!" Russell, paying no mind to the crowd that had gathered. He hauled himself to his feet, finger extended as he drew himself into a pose of righteous indignation. "You are no daughter of mine."**_

_** Quinn's spine and gaze steeled. She raised her chin, managing to look down at her father even from the five-inch height difference. This was something he had never witnessed before. This was the Ice Queen that intimidated all who tried. This was a woman of immense power, a woman wholly assured and secure in herself. Russell resisted the urge to visibly shiver. "I don't need to be your daughter. I'm just fine on my own."**_

_** Head high, shoulders back, Quinn turned to Kendall, grabbing her hand and walking them away from Russell Fabray. Her steps didn't falter, and she didn't look back.**_

_** Not once.**_

_** …Oh and she totally got laid that night because Kendall thought knights in shining taffeta bridesmaids dresses were so hot.**_

Okay…

This was awkward.

Quinn Lucas was certain of three things: 1) She was irrevocably attracted to Rachel Berry, 2) Rachel Berry was her mysterious savior from all those years ago, and 3) Rachel Berry was straight.

Oh, and straight Rachel Berry had a boyfriend. Who was sitting in front of her, an arm around her shoulders while the three of them had lunch together.

Freakin' _awkward_.

Quinn looked over at Brady Shaw, the aforementioned boyfriend. He was fairly tall, around six-foot, and was built athletically with broad shoulders tapering down to lean muscle. And, of course, he _would_ be really, really, really, _ridiculously_ good-looking. His coiffed, dark brown hair complemented his olive skin tone and contrasted against his light green eyes.

They looked like the quintessential perfect Broadway power couple – excuse the pun.

It was sickening.

Rachel, for her part, was absolutely enthralled at the man beside her. She was snuggled up under his arm, big brown eyes shining. Quinn grit her teeth; the guy just _looked_ slimy…She wondered if it was just her. He was too handsome, too charming, too…_perfect_. She despised him on principle.

Brady reached for his bottle of sparkling water with a delicate hand as Rachel urged him to tell what he had been up to while she had been in LA.

"I just finished my run as Fiyero in _Wicked_," he answered, running a hand through his hair, too casually tousled to be natural. "The producers and I reached an agreement to not renew my contract so that I could pursue other opportunities."

That sounded like a nice way of saying 'We don't want you back' in Quinn's opinion, but she kept that belief to herself. She certainly had more important things to think about than Brady's rather lackluster career. Her mind continued to whirl with her earlier revelation that she nearly missed Brady's next comment.

Brady turned to Rachel, chucking her gently under the chin. "I tried to get Rachel to come play Elphaba, but she landed this first." He shook his head in amazement. "I am still trying to wrap my head around how it all came about."

Quinn shrugged. "From what Chris tells me he saw her picture in the paper and got one of his gut feelings."

"Talk about your lucky break," Brady remarked. "That's absolutely amazing." He looked to his girlfriend fondly. "Some of us had to slum through waiting tables and signing Bar and Bat Mitzvahs. You're living quite the charmed life, babe."

Quinn smirked, bestowing an affectionate smile on Rachel. "Worked out so far." She forced herself to keep with the polite conversation. "So what's up next for you?"

Brady flushed, his eyes darting away from hers. "I…haven't quite found something I'm fond of yet," he hedged. "I'm looking at my options, maybe seeing if I can branch out a bit."

"Brady's always been picky about his roles," Rachel affirmed, stroking his arm, stretching up to kiss his cheek. "You should have seen how long it took him to get Bob Gaudio in _Jersey Boys_ before Fiyero."

"Uh-huh." Quinn had a distinct feeling that there was more to the story than just the finicky man, but again, she kept quiet. Brady yammered on, and she retreated back into her thoughts.

Okay…Rachel Berry saved her from stupid Denny Campbell's locker prison. What did that mean?

Well, it certainly meant that Rachel Berry was infinitely more awesome than Quinn originally gave the Broadway starlet credit.

Alright, then what was Quinn going to do about it?

…Good freakin' question…

Quinn shook her head. She had a feeling things just got infinitely more complicated.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel skipped onto the set, humming a happy tune, "Don't Rain on My Parade," naturally. Barbra always could say it best. With Brady in tow, she greeted the various crew strewn throughout the area with a smile. Many found it quite difficult not to be entranced by the bubbly, happy diva.

The rest of their shared lunch progressed quite nicely, if Rachel wasn't mistaken, and when they all returned for the afternoon scenes – Quinn graciously picked up the check – Brady had urged Rachel back to her trailer so that he could change, saying that his current outfit was not acceptable for meeting an esteemed director such as Christian Keller while the blonde retreated to wardrobe to get ready for their first scene.

Two wardrobe changes later – Brady deemed the tie a bit too pretentious – they arrived to the set of the Gerard's backyard. The various crewmembers milled about, setting up lighting, putting down marks for blocking, securing the props and the like. Rachel snuck up behind the first AD, tapped his shoulder, and ducked down, smothering her giggles behind her hands as he whirled wildly trying to find her. As he finally looked down, she scampered away, ducking behind Ellen Beauchamp who played Sloane Gerard's mom, Betty, as he tried to put her in a headlock.

Chris glanced up as her melodic laughter rang through the set, and he waved her over. "Hey, Rachel, come here for a second. I need to go over a couple of notes before we get started."

"Sure, Chris." She turned back to the AD, poking him teasingly in the ribs before bouncing over. She pointed back to Brady as he sidled up behind her, clearing his throat and nudging her insistently. "This is my boyfriend, Brady Shaw."

Chris glanced over to the man. He offered out a polite smile and a nod. "Nice to meet you."

He turned back to Rachel, holding out the script. "Okay, so we changed the blocking a bit; we're going to put you a lot closer to Quinn to transition to this part."

Rachel nodded, following his finger as he mapped out the changes. "So she'll go from hitting the bag straight to standing in front of me instead of leaning up against the fence?"

"Yeah," Chris affirmed. "I figured it would make sense. That way there isn't too much movement. It'll be smoother." He glanced up as Quinn strode up, calling out to her. "Quinn, come here so I can go over this."

She obliged, moving to stand beside Chris. One of the wardrobe members came up behind her, armed with a mister. She removed her coat and took a step back, still listening to the director as he relayed the slight changes.

As she handed her coat to another wardrobe person, Quinn thanked her lucky stars that Declan insisted she follow through with Chris's suggestion to hire a trainer to somewhat mold her body into one a Marine lieutenant would feasibly boast. Her wardrobe for this scene consisted of a sports bra and a pair of sweatpants riding low on her hips that molded quite snugly to her ass. Every one of those brutal abdominal workouts was well worth it as her stomach looked quite impressive – if she did say so herself. Quinn held her arms out while the assistant orbited around her, spraying her torso with water to mimic sweat, nodding as Chris went over the blocking changes.

As Quinn twisted slightly, Rachel's eyes bulged and she raised a hand. Quinn snorted at the gesture, shaking her head as they wrapped her hands for the scene.

"May I just say that I'm jealous of your body?"

The sports bra covered the basics, showing the best parts of Quinn's torso: the leanly muscled arms, the strong shoulders, the pert bust, and the tight, sculpted abdominals. Rachel tilted her head at the sight of two tattoos adorning Quinn's torso, one decorating Quinn's right shoulder that peeked through the sports bra's straps, a part of it marred slightly by the fake scar running down the left shoulder and the other placed just below the line of her bra on her left side ribcage. She couldn't quite read the two lines of text, but she could make out the words "Pride" and "Courage" as they were a bit bigger than the rest of the script. She made a mental note to ask about them later.

Quinn cocked an eyebrow. "Uh, look who's talking," she countered, turning around so her back could be easily reached. "You're the one who can put away plates of food yet not gain a pound, all while doing nothing."

Rachel straightened her posture in defiance. "I beg to differ, Quinn. For years, I have implemented an exercise regiment that caters to my best assets. It has slightly altered with the late evenings of a typical Broadway performance, but I still do my cardio workout every morning."

Quinn lofted her hands with a small grin. "So feisty, Berry. I will never question your work ethic, promise." She leveled a mock licentious leer up and down Rachel's frame. "Looks like milk isn't the only thing that does a body good."

"Smooth, Quinn," Rachel deadpanned. "I'm a bit surprised."

"What, do you doubt my game?" Quinn pointed to the little diva, adopting a faux haughty expression. "I'm sexy, and I sure as hell know it, Berry. I have no problems letting anyone else in on that knowledge too."

Rachel's eyes twinkled, and she opened her mouth, no doubt to sing the insipid LMFAO song of the same name when Quinn reached out, clamping a hand over the starlet's lips. She rolled her eyes, knowing full well she left the opportunity out there. "You're gonna start singing. Don't. You singing will make me a happy, smiley, bouncy Quinn, and I need to be intense, angry, mean Sloane."

Rachel smiled brightly as Quinn removed her hand. "My singing makes you happy?"

"Why am I not surprised that's what you choose to focus on?" Quinn muttered. "Yeah," she asserted. "Like, farting rainbows happy."

Rachel wrinkled her nose at the recycled line. It was rapidly becoming a joke within the cast just by the sheer absurdity of Anson's original delivery as well as the actual content. "Okay, that sounds even worse coming out of _your_ mouth."

Chris popped back in between them, looking wholly amused at their banter. "You guys ready? We're just about set up."

Both girls nodded to their director and moved towards the set. Quinn took her place in front of the punching bag. She smiled as Rachel went through her pre-scene routine, closing her eyes, rolling her head to one side then the other. When she opened her eyes again, Rachel Berry was no more. In her place stood Mia St. Claire. Quinn slipped into her own persona, drawing up as much anger and aggression as she could as Sloane Gerard.

"ACTION!"

* * *

><p><em>The backyard of the Gerard place was a large field that had once been the ultimate playground for the three Gerard children. But as they grew and left the nest, it had calmed, the boisterous trampling of little feet transitioning to the soft clomping of the cows, the horses, and their golden retriever, Roscoe. That was why the heavy canvas bag that dangled from the strongest branch of the old oak tree seemed to be out of place. The bag swung violently with each strike delivered to its body, the enraged blonde pounding on the fabric unsettling the calm, tranquil atmosphere. One thing was certain from the scene: Sloane Gerard was not happy.<em>

_Sloane circled around the bag, dancing around her opponent. She could see him clearly, every inch of his sneering, ugly face mocking her from beyond her imagination. She grunted as her wrapped fist dug into fabric of the bag, letting her frustration out with each powerful blow. _

_ "Imagining someone's face?"_

_ Sloane didn't turn, merely lashed out with a high roundhouse kick. "Just JJ McCoy's," she huffed out. She spared a glance to her new companion leaning against the fence, her crossed arms propped on the top railing. "What are you doing here?"_

_ Mia shrugged, hopping onto the railing and crossing her legs. "Heard what happened. Wanted to make sure you're alright."_

_ Sloane scoffed, fists pummeling the bag. "Me? Oh, I'm just fine. Just questioning what could have possibly compelled me to come back to this fucking town."_

_ She growled as a three-punch combination landed solidly, ignoring the stinging in her knuckles. "Nothing ever changes here," Sloane growled, a right cross following a left jab. "Same gossipy old biddies, same catty bitches, same dumbass Golden Boys…"_

_ A series of kicks followed. As Sloane immersed herself in her anger, her strikes grew sloppier, the Marine forgoing technique for savage, animalistic rage._

"'_Poor Sloane, so pretty, but she couldn't hold onto a man. That's why she went into the military,'" Sloane mocked, repeating the whispers she had heard from the town ladies and JJ. "'Bet she just sat back and let all the men do the work. She probably doesn't even know what's going on over there.'"_

"_I don't know why I bothered." Sloane roared her frustration, laying one final blow to the bag before leaning her forehead against the canvas, breathing hard. "They didn't see me then. They don't see me now." _

"_So what's stopping you from walking away?" Mia posed. "Why don't you just turn around and never look back? No one's stopping you. You can just walk on out of here and leave all of this behind and leave all the people that actually do care about you. I mean, it's not like we all mean much, anyway, right?" _

_Sloane whirled towards the other woman, an angry retort on her lips. As hazel eyes locked on brown, she saw the look in Mia's eyes. It was disappointment. Sloane deflated, her expression softening and the sharp remark dying on her lips. _

"_Don't say that," she mumbled, kicking ashamedly at the dirt. "You're the only thing good about this shitty place." _

_ Mia reached out, grabbing Sloane's hands fisted at her sides and drawing the Marine closer to stand in front of her. The brunette uncurled the tightly clenched fingers. Tenderly, she unwound the wrap and ran her fingers over the reddened skin, her gentle touch contrasting against the roughened calluses. She lifted a kind gaze to sad hazel eyes. "And you're the only person brave enough to want something more than what's here. You're the only person brave enough to chase a life that's not what was expected of you."_

_ Sloane closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry. Mia's soft, caring touch was almost overwhelming. Her heart ached at the sincerity. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open._

_ "He's wrong," Mia murmured. She looked up into the green, gold, and brown spheres, so disillusioned and weary. "You know just as well as anyone how horrible war can be." Tentatively, one hand extended, slipping beneath Sloane's armpit, tracing the beginning of the long scar that started at Sloane's shoulder blade. Mia followed its path as it extended down to the middle of Sloane's back._

_ "Don't you?"_

_ The mask shielding the Marine shattered at the simple question. It left a barren face of naked, helpless emotion in its wake. In that moment, Sloane Gerard, First Lieutenant of the United States Marine Corps, badass fighter pilot, survivor of war, a woman normally so tough and strong, looked so fragile, so vulnerable. She was that little kid, clutching at her teddy bear and hovering at the doorway to her parents' bedroom after a bad dream._

_Sloane shrank down, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I still have the nightmares."_

_ "Isn't there someone who chases them away for you?"_

_ Sloane huffed out a derisive chuckle, her eyes lifting to Mia's. They were so sad. Mia's gaze softened. There wasn't pity in her dark eyes, just understanding. That was the only reason Sloane was able to hold the stare. She shrugged._

"_It's not like anyone in this town gets it." _

_ "I get it," Mia murmured, brushing back the stubborn strand of Sloane's hair that always seemed to venture into the blonde's vision. "More than you know." _

* * *

><p>"CUT! Excellent, ladies. I think we got what we wanted on that one." Chris looked at the playback, eyes darting to the different nuances of the scene. Finally, he nodded in satisfaction. "Yup, let's print that."<p>

The words had no sooner escaped Chris's mouth than Quinn slid her hands out of Rachel's grasp, attempting to place distance between herself and the little diva. There was something incredibly powerful in that scene between them, starting with the electrical current that shocked every nerve in her system when Rachel had taken her hands. The emotions currently rushing through her veins rang a bit too true for the blonde to be comfortable with. Rachel thwarted her escape attempt, however, as she broke character, beaming and throwing her arms around the blonde's neck.

"Oh, Quinn, you were wonderful! That was easily your most stirring performance to date."

Quinn quirked a small smile. "Thanks." She ducked her head shyly. "I think that was one of my favorite scenes so far."

"That was good," Brady piped up as he sauntered towards to the two women. He pressed a kiss to Rachel's cheek, slinging an arm around the starlet's shoulders. "That was an interesting take on it, Rach," he remarked. "I suppose you'll get better with more takes, though."

Quinn frowned at the man's comment, ready to defend Rachel when another voice spoke up.

"Well, I thought I was hearing things when I heard you slithered onto set." Santana appeared just behind the fence post railing. She eyed Brady with thinly veiled dislike. "I'm highly disappointed to find out it was true."

Brady straightened, squaring his shoulders. "Satan."

"Clever," Santana drawled, crossing her arms. "If you hadn't used it fifty billion times before, I might actually have actually reacted. Now the insult's as tired as your haircut."

Santana's mouth twisted in displeasure. "I'm surprised it took you this long to get here. But then, I guess it's hard to scrounge up airfare when you're chronically unemployed."

Brady puffed up with indignation. "I'll have you know I just finished a run with _Wicked_."

It was a lame comeback, and Santana obviously deemed it unworthy of a response.

"Whatever." She turned to Rachel. "We've got good news."

Brittany chimed in, bouncing beside Santana. "UPRIGHT Cabaret wants you to do a show."

Rachel squealed her excitement, causing her four companions to flinch away at the sound. "No way!"

"No, I told you that just so you could bust my eardrum," Santana deadpanned. "Of course it's legit. Do you want me to give them the okay?"

"Uh, duh," Rachel shot back in an equal deadpan. "Book it! No questions asked."

"You know better than that, Tiny," Santana chastised with a grin as she took out her phone, scrolling through the contacts until she hit the right one. Raising the device to her ear, she started walking away from the set. "There are always questions to make sure we all get paid."

Brady transitioned quickly from the skeptical critic to ecstatic boyfriend, enveloping Rachel in a hug. His light eyes sparkled as he showered his praise on his girlfriend, already beginning plans for the set list, arrangements, and strongly hinting towards a duet between the two.

Quinn's eyes narrowed. Brady was certainly happy at this development, but she wasn't quite sure what kind of happy that meant. She shelved her feelings away for the moment. Now wasn't the time to focus on those sorts of things. If anything, never let it be said that Quinn Lucas was ever unprofessional.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn stalked to the safety of her trailer, flopping down on the couch. She had only known Brady Shaw for a day and already she was certain she did not like him. The man was like a yippy little dog, constantly hounding for attention and preening for whomever was in range that could possibly be beneficial to him. She couldn't count the times she had heard one of his insipid comments to Rachel about her acting, or the scene, or what he believed should be done differently.

She unleashed her frustration by pwning some serious noobs at _Call of Duty_ online before switching to Campaign Mode.

"Knock, knock…"

Quinn glanced up as Rachel's head poked through the doorway, thankfully without the company of the persistent Pomeranian that had been nipping at her heels all day. "Hey. Come in."

Rachel obliged, settling gracefully down on the blonde's couch. "You've been MIA."

Quinn shrugged. "Just needed a break from everything, I guess. The days are starting to get long."

"I get it. And so unpredictable. On Broadway, it always seemed as though my days were always so structured." Rachel turned toward the blonde, propping her head on her hand. "So you know that UPRIGHT Cabaret show I booked this weekend? I was hoping you'd be free. I'd love if you came."

Quinn frowned, unsure of what exactly she was attending. "What is it?"

"Basically an hour or so of me singing." Rachel turned doe eyes to her costar. "Please? There will be dinner and drinks and good company."

Inwardly, she cursed at the big, brown eyes imploring her beseechingly. Quinn had learned a few things while in Rachel's company. She had yet to learn how to refuse the little diva. Damn those eyes…

"Count me in."

"Wonderful!" Rachel grinned her delight before turning her attention to the television. "Every time I've been in here, I've seen you playing that game."

Quinn smirked. "It's research. Military tactics and strategy, duh…"

"Is it really that accurate?"

Quinn shrugged. "I think so. From what I've heard, it's as close as you can get without actually enlisting in the military. Well, despite the respawning thing."

Rachel cocked her head, observing the video game. Quinn maneuvered through the perils quite skillfully. "What's so great about it? In high school, Noah and my ex-boyfriend would play this game for hours on end."

Again, Quinn shrugged. "Something about the thrill of it all, I guess. You get sucked into the storyline and the excitement. Plus it's a great way to let out some aggression." She handed Rachel the other controller. "Here, if you want, I can show you how to play."

Rachel eyed the object in her hands. It was the controller Noah used before, compatible to the Xbox 360 or whatever the current model was. She had seen it billions of times before but had never really used such a thing. She nodded her assent, shifting in her seat so she could face the television screen.

"Okay, so the left joystick is how you move around. The right is how you look around. If you push the left trigger, you'll snap onto the nearest target. The right trigger fires your gun."

Rachel absorbed that knowledge, frowning. "Sweet Barbra, this is complicated…"

Quinn laughed. "A little. Once you get the hang of it, it's easy."

Rachel scooted closer as Quinn patiently taught her the nuances of playing the video game. She was surprised to find that Quinn was right. The first-person perspective was quite thrilling, and the storyline was very gripping in its intensity. There had been a few false starts, but Rachel soon felt confident enough to try a level at the lowest difficulty setting with Quinn on a Cooperative round.

"Grenade!" Quinn warned, seeing the indicator popping up on the screen. "Throw it back! Right bumper, right bumper! Throw it back or run away before it gets you!"

Rachel yelped, her finger tapping the button, relieved when her player stooped down and lobbed the grenade away. She guided her player to cover, before popping up firing at the approaching enemy. "I got him!"

"Nice shot," Quinn agreed. She looked to her trailer door as a knock sounded. "Come in!"

To her immense displeasure, Brady stuck his head in. "Hi, Quinn, sorry to bother you, but have you seen…" He trailed off as he found Rachel sitting beside Quinn, her attention on the TV.

"Oh, there you are. I've been–" Brady frowned at his girlfriend staring intensely at the TV screen, fingers moving rapidly, teeth sunk into her bottom lip in concentration. She hadn't even glanced up when he had entered. "What are you doing?"

"Playing _Call of Duty: Modern Warfare_…" She directed a question at Quinn, eyes not moving from the screen. "Which one is it?"

Quinn shrugged, moving her player through the swarming gunfire and into a building for cover, Rachel's player scrambling right behind. "Dunno…I lost track after _MW3 _came out in high school. Declan's got a friend at Infinity Ward, the company that develops the games, and he just sends us the new ones once they come out."

Brady's expression twisted in disgust as Rachel lashed out with her knife and slashed a charging opponent, the blood spatter filling the screen quite intense. "Why would you possibly be indulging in that barbaric game?

The two women looked to each other sharing a glance and a smile before speaking in unison, "It's research."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel sighed heavily as she called for a break in rehearsal for her cabaret show. The restaurant where her UPRIGHT Cabaret performance was going to be was a small, intimate setting perfect for the type of show she had arranged. She looked to the musicians milling around, some making notes on their sheet music, others idly chatting. So far, she was extremely satisfied with the house band. The arrangements for her set were fairly simple, and she was looking forward to singing again after a bit of a break from the bright lights of Broadway. Perching herself on a stool, she took a sip of water, taking in the famed event that Broadway superstars such as Wilson Cruz, Tracie Thoms, and Laura Bell Bundy – she loved _Legally Blonde: The Musical _– and even crossover stars like Adam Lambert and Neil Patrick Harris had participated in.

For the first time in a good while, she was absolutely alone, no Santana, no Brittany, and certainly no Brady. In fact, she hadn't seen him since early morning the day before. She felt bad, but she insisted that Brady find a hotel for the duration of his stay. The suite the studio had set her up in was rather large, but it was already a bit of a squeeze with herself, Brittany, and Santana.

She wasn't sure what to feel about Brady's presence. On one hand, she was ecstatic that he was there, especially since he had never been one for surprises. It had been too long since they had been together with her in California and him finishing up his run on _Wicked_. The last time she had seen him had been right before she left for Hollywood. She had finally been able to catch him playing Fiyero. Inwardly, she chuckled at the memory. He had tried way too hard to play up the persona of the suave, frivolous prince, and it showed in his slightly clumsy dancing. He had sung well, however, but she was slightly disappointed to find that he didn't try for the optional high note in "As Long As You're Mine." That had been a staple the first time she had seen _Wicked_ live, and she had to admit that she wanted to hear Brady really belt it out. The night had ended on a bit of a sour note, though when they had exited out the stage door. More people had asked for her autograph than his, and he had been a bit put-off by it. Rachel sighed. Sometimes the man was even more of a diva than she was. Which led her to her other point. On the other hand, he had a tendency to be extremely clingy, stifling her with his constant company. It seemed as though she couldn't move more than ten steps without him appearing at her elbow.

Rachel glanced down as her text tone sounded and noted the contact name. Immediately, a smile wormed its way onto her face as she read the text message.

_Somehow, CoD isn't the same without your high note at the end of each successful mission…:P_

She shook her head. One of the things she had learned from hanging out with Quinn was that the cool, sophisticated blonde was nothing more than a huge nerd, beginning with her curious affinity for video games. Rachel wasn't sure how she managed it, but little by little, she was picking at the fortress that surrounded the Ice Queen that was Quinn Lucas. Her costar had definitely surprised her. Quinn still was slightly closed off and reserved, but there were the little things that had begun shining through: their conversations over coffee, hanging out in each other's trailer, Quinn teaching her _Call of Duty_. They seemed like miniscule, insignificant things, but knowing Quinn's reputation, they were quite substantial in her mind. Rachel wondered exactly what it was that drew Quinn to her, but the elusive blonde seemed to be just a little bit softer around her. She was certain Quinn never shared personal details with their fellow costars or even her castmates from _Queen of Babble _like she had been with Rachel. An idea struck Rachel, and she turned to the house band.

"Hey, guys, I want to add one more song…"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel sat at her relegated table at the restaurant as the band continued their set up. Brittany was bouncing in her seat, not yet feeling the Cosmopolitan in front of her, trying to coax a smile out of Santana who was constantly checking her phone for any word of an interview for an online Broadway publication. Brady was scanning the restaurant, pointing out a few notables in the crowd. So far, he had seen a few journalists and a couple of actors who made their name in the Broadway theatre scene. Rachel started when a bouquet of her favorite fuscia-tinted orchids slid into her vision. Following the accompanying hand up the arm to the face, she grinned, throwing her arms around the man's neck.

"Noah! What are you doing here?"

Puck returned her grin, opening his arms for his Jew Babe, spinning her around and kissing her cheek. "Figured I'd come see you do your thing. I haven't been able to see you perform live since you made your Broadway debut." He circled the table, bestowing similar affection on Brittany and Santana before sinking down in an empty seat beside them.

"No, but you've made up with it by sending flowers once a week," Rachel pointed out. "I guess I can't be too mad at you."

Puck turned his attention to the man beside Rachel, barely containing his displeasure. "Shaw."

Brady returned the curt greeting. "Puckerman."

Rachel simply beamed as she found herself surrounded by her all her favorite people. Her smile brightened as Quinn and Declan entered the restaurant. She reared up, waving them to the table.

"Quinn! Declan!" She reached out to hug the blonde and her manager, "So glad you guys could make it." She touched Brady's shoulder, drawing his attention to Declan. "Declan, my boyfriend, Brady Shaw. Brady, this is Declan Riley, Quinn's manager and best friend."

"Pleasure," Brady returned. He seemed to scrutinize Declan. "I would only trust a good friend with the inner workings of my career as well."

Declan merely grasped the hand, unsure of how to respond. "Uh, yeah, I guess so."

Quinn muffled a snort when Declan motioned towards Brady and mouthed 'Tool'. She couldn't deny that fact in the slightest. She was distracted from commenting further when the cheers sounded as the emcee ascended the small stage, placing himself in front of the microphone.

"Good evening, everyone. Welcome to this UPRIGHT Cabaret performance! I'm sure you all know who we've scheduled for this performance, so enough of the pomp and circumstance, eh?" He laughed as the crowd roared their agreement. "This young lady burst onto the Broadway scene a couple of years ago, and since then, her name has been on the lips as a prospect for every major production. She made her debut in the revival of _Thoroughly Modern Millie_ and has won every award possible for that role: the Tony, the Drama Desk, the Outer Critics Circle…the list goes on and on. Ladies and gentleman, Rachel Berry!"

As soon as the spotlight landed on Rachel, Brady straightened, squeezing her to him and pressing a kiss to her cheek as she moved from her chair to the stage. Quinn was strongly reminded of a peacock preening.

"Hello, hello!" Rachel beamed her Gold Star Smile at the crowd, many of them already on their feet. "Wow, this is flattering. All of you are here to see little ole me?" She giggled at the rousing cheers. "You really do now how to make a girl feel welcome."

The cheering continued for a little longer before Rachel held her hands out. "Well, alright, let's get this started!" She took the microphone, moving its stand to the side. "As many of you probably heard, I am here filming a major motion picture." Even more cheers sounded. "Thank you, thank you. And although, Los Angeles has been so wonderful, my heart has always been and probably always will be with Broadway. So I believe I'll start with a little something from the Great White Way."

A lilting guitar filled the restaurant, soft like a lullaby, drifting through the air. Rachel closed her eyes, raising the microphone up to her mouth. When she started singing, Quinn's world screeched to a halt.

_Where I go, when I go there,  
><em>_No more memory anymore  
><em>_Only drifting on some ship  
><em>_The wind that whispers of the distance to shore..._

_Where I go, when I go there,  
><em>_No more listening anymore  
><em>_Only hymns upon your lips;  
><em>_A mystic wisdom rising with them to shore..._

_Touch me…just like that.  
><em>_And that…oh, yeah, now, that's heaven.  
><em>_Now, that I like.  
><em>_God, that's so nice.  
><em>_Now lower down, where the figs lie..._

Quinn's mouth sagged open at the sound that had floated from Rachel's mouth. She had never heard a voice like what was currently coming out of the little diva's mouth. It was equal parts light and airy yet strong and powerful at the same time. It reminded her of the Disney princesses walking through the forest, singing sweetly as anthropomorphic cartoon birds braided her hair. There had been the normal white noise in the restaurant: dishes clanking, waiters rushing from table to table, idle chatter…All that had quieted the moment Rachel opened her mouth. She felt a nudge at her side, and looking into Brittany's knowing eyes.

"It's like pure sunshine, isn't it? Like something out of an old Disney movie."

Dumbly, Quinn nodded, unable to say anything.

Brittany smiled. "I feel that when Ray sings every time." She cocked her head. "When are you going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?"

"That you're into her." Quinn's mouth sagged open in surprise. Brittany nodded sagely. "It's alright. I know you're a dolphin like me and San. But there's nothing wrong with being a dolphin. And don't worry, I won't tell Rachel until you're ready." Brittany's voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. "But from experience? Ray's lady kisses really do taste like berries. I thought it was just because of her name, but they really, really do."

Quinn's eyes snapped to Rachel's assistant, aching to have Brittany elaborate, but the lithe blonde had already turned back to the stage, swaying with the beat. She really hoped Brittany meant what Quinn thought she meant. One never knew with the quirky, eccentric blonde. Still, there was something insanely perceptive to Brittany's seemingly inane statement. Perhaps there was more to the ditzy blonde than she had thought.

Quinn returned her eyes to the stage as Rachel hit a booming high note before softening down to a soft croon.

"She's flat," Brady huffed reproachfully, shaking his head.

"You're hearing things, Shaw," Puck dismissed with a snort.

The smaller man crossed his arms over his chest. "She didn't adequately warm up before this, did she?"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Bro, I've known Rachel for over twenty years. The only thing that was ever flat in those twenty-plus years was her chest pre-puberty."

"Seriously, Shaw, do you just spout this stuff to hear the sound of your own voice?" Santana concurred, taking a sip of her drink. "You can talk when you can hold a high note without your voice cracking like Peter Brady going through puberty."

"Santana, you of all people should be taking this seriously!" Brady chastised. "A bad show could be detrimental to Rachel's prospective jobs. We don't know who's listening right now."

"Uh, I don't think Rachel will be remiss in job offers," Santana corrected. "Don's had to open up a whole different P.O. Box for all of the scripts writers have been sending Rachel." Santana calmed once Brittany laid a hand on her thigh. She picked up her Long Island, taking another sip. "Now shut up. I want to hear Tiny sing."

All eyes returned to the stage. Rachel grinned as the last lingering notes drifted away and the applause rose to a roar. "Thank you, thank you."

She placed the microphone on a black stand, taking a seat on a stool and adjusting the height as the band got ready for the next song.

"One of my favorite movies growing up was _Cruel Intentions_, and I have always loved the song that played during the ending. It may have something to do with the bad girl getting her comeuppance, but never let it be said that I'm a vindictive person." She giggled, emphasizing her point with an index finger extended skyward. "So here is 'Bittersweet Symphony.'"

_'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life  
><em>_Trying to make ends meet  
><em>_You're a slave to money then you die  
><em>_I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down  
><em>_You know the one that takes you to the places  
><em>_Where all the veins meet yeah,_

_No change, I can change  
><em>_I can change, I can change  
><em>_But I'm here in my mold  
><em>_I am here in my mold  
><em>_But I'm a million different people  
><em>_from one day to the next  
><em>_I can't change my mold_

_No, no, no, no, no_

Brady frowned from behind his cocktail. "I'm not sure I'm in love with this song choice."

Puck had enough of the constant commentary from the peanut gallery and clapped a hand on the other man's neck, squeezing the pressure point he knew was there. Brady winced, and Puck dipped his head down to the other man's ear. To any casual onlooker, it looked like two friends sharing a conversation above the din of the music. Those who knew Puck, however, knew better.

"Seriously, dude, if you don't shut your trap, I will drop you, and I guarantee it will hurt because I do shit like that for a living," Puck hissed. He gave another warning squeeze that nearly sent Brady toppling off his seat.

Brady straightened, smoothing down his sweater in attempt to regain at least a bit of his dignity. He avoided looking at Puck returning his attention to the stage where Rachel was introducing her next song.

"So as you all know, I've been cast in Chris Keller's new movie, and I'm sharing the screen with some extremely brilliant people. I'd like to bring my costar, the very talented Miss Quinn Lucas up here." If the ovation was loud when Rachel finished, it was even louder at the mention of the elusive television star. Rachel's dark eyes sparkled mischievously as they found a pair of wide hazel ones in the crowd. "She once told me that she has quite a weakness for Stevie Nicks and that given the right partner, she loves to duet on a little 'Leather and Lace'." Rachel's devious smile widened as the spotlight swung over to Quinn. "I hope I'll suffice."

Egged on by the cheers and Declan's insistent poking to her back, Quinn slid off her stool, making her way to the stage. She was handed a microphone and offered a stool. Settling down, she mock glared at her costar.

"You're lucky we're so far into the movie that it would take us forever to reshoot again, Berry," Quinn growled playfully. She smiled, however, and shook her head at the sheer audacity of her adorable partner-in-crime.

Rachel merely grinned back, motioning for the blonde to take Stevie Nicks's part as the familiar guitar intro sounded.

_Is love so fragile  
><em>_And the heart so hollow  
><em>_Shatter with words impossible to follow  
><em>_You're saying I'm fragile, I try not to be  
><em>_I search only for something I can't see_

_I have my own life  
><em>_And I am stronger than you know  
><em>_But I carry this feeling  
><em>_When you walked into my house  
><em>_That you won't be walking out the door  
><em>_Still I carry this feeling  
><em>_When you walked into my house  
><em>_That you won't be walking out the door_

Rachel beamed that sunny smile as she watched Quinn croon out the song in that smooth voice of hers. The blonde shot her a silly look, still slightly irked at her costar. Rachel merely stuck out her tongue, raising her microphone to harmonize with the blonde on the chorus.

_Lovers forever, face to face  
><em>_My city or mountains  
><em>_Stay with me stay  
><em>_I need you to love me  
><em>_I need you today  
><em>_Give to me your leather  
><em>_Take from me my lace_

Rachel swayed to the beat, taking Don Henley's part. It really was an awesome song, and she held quite the appreciation for both Fleetwood Mac and the brilliance of Miss Stevie Nicks.

_You in the moonlight  
><em>_With your sleepy eyes  
><em>_Could you ever love a man like me?  
><em>_And you were right  
><em>_When I walked into your house  
><em>_I knew I'd never want to leave_

_Sometimes I'm a strong man  
><em>_Sometimes cold and scared  
><em>_And sometimes I cry  
><em>_But that time I saw you  
><em>_I knew with you to light my nights  
><em>_Somehow I'd get by  
><em>_First time I saw you  
><em>_I knew with you to light my nights  
><em>_Somehow I would get by_

As the last notes faded into the dim lighting, Rachel clapped, sweeping her arms to her costar. "Quinn Lucas, everyone!"

Quinn accepted the hug, whispering promises of redemption into the brunette's ear. Rachel merely smirked back cheekily as Quinn escaped the pull of the spotlight. She went through a couple more songs before her time limit was almost up. Rachel looked to the crowd, with a smile.

"One more?"

Rachel stood from the stool, setting it aside as she fit the microphone int its stand. "Well, as you all know, I was fortunate enough to make my Broadway debut in the revival of _Thoroughly Modern Millie_." Again, the cheers reverberated through the small restaurant.

"There was one song I thoroughly enjoyed singing, a song that never really got old for me, first of all because it was the eleven o'clock number, and most eleven o'clock numbers are epic in themselves, and secondly, because I felt like it was an anthem for anyone who looks for love. So here is 'Gimme, Gimme'."

_A simple choice, nothing more  
><em>_This or that, either or  
><em>_Marry well, social whirl, business man, clever girl  
><em>_Or pin my future on the boy I love  
><em>_What kind of life am I dreaming of?_

There was a wistful tone to Rachel's voice, an indecision from the character. Quinn could just see her on a lighted stage, contemplating Millie's romantic future. Quinn wondered if this was the effect of Rachel simply singing, what it was like on Broadway with Rachel fully immersed in her character.

_I say gimme, gimme ... gimme, gimme  
><em>_Gimme, gimme that thing called love  
><em>_I want it  
><em>_Gimme, gimme that thing called love  
><em>_I need it  
><em>_Highs and lows, tears and laughter  
><em>_Gimme happy ever after  
><em>_Gimme, gimme that thing called love  
><em>

_Gimme, gimme that thing called love  
><em>_I crave it  
><em>_Gimme, gimme that thing called love  
><em>_I'll brave it  
><em>_Thick 'n thin, rich or poor time  
><em>_Gimme years and I'll want more time  
><em>_Gimme, gimme that thing called love_

This wasn't just Rachel singing for the money or the exposure. This was Rachel singing because she loved to do it. This was the Rachel that randomly burst out into song because she could barely contain herself. This was the Rachel that shined brighter than any other star in the whole entire universe and had urged her to do the same all those years ago.

_Gimme, gimme that thing called love  
><em>_I'm free now  
><em>_Gimme, gimme that thing called love  
><em>_I see now  
><em>_Fly, dove! Sing, sparrow!  
><em>_Gimme Cupid's famous arrow  
><em>_Gimme, gimme that thing called love_

The song was starting to swell and build, rocketing up to the crescendo. Quinn could see the transition in the character. Rachel, as Millie, was becoming certain in her decision. Quinn could only stare entranced at the powerful voice coming from the tiny, little person before her.

_I don't care if he's a nobody  
><em>_In my heart he'll be a somebody  
><em>_Somebody to love me!_

As Rachel held the note, transitioning swiftly to the next verse, Quinn grabbed the seat of her stool in an attempt to anchor herself. Sure, Rachel had sung before, but nothing like this. Quinn had never actually heard her completely let loose like she was now. Never had she actually witnessed the full effect of what had been aptly named the Berry Belt. It was like being bitch-slapped by sheer musical sound.

_I need it  
><em>_Gimme, gimme that thing called love  
><em>_I want it  
><em>_Here I am, St. Valentine  
><em>_My bags are packed, I'm first in line  
><em>_Aphrodite, don't forget me  
><em>_Romeo and Juliet me  
><em>_Fly, dove! Sing, sparrow!  
><em>_Gimme fat boy's famous arrow  
><em>_Gimme, gimme that thing called love!_

Quinn let out the breath she was unaware she held. Gasping for air, she shot a wide-eyed look to Santana. The Latina nodded sagely.

"Yeah," she murmured. "_That's_ how she won the Tony…"

Rachel didn't even look winded as she dropped her arms, the crowd surging to its feet, applause simply bouncing off the walls, people screaming their delight. Rachel took her bows, waving back to the band, blowing kisses to her fans. With one final curtsey, she descended the stage back to the table where she was engulfed with hugs and kisses from her friends.

"I am in awe of you right now," Quinn answered. "It seems to defy logic how such a huge voice can come out of such a little person. Are you sure you're human?"

Rachel laughed, pressing a hand to her heart teasingly. "My life is complete. I have been accused of being a cyborg by Quinn Lucas. What a compliment!" Rachel bit her lip. "You're not mad at me for blindsiding you?"

Quinn cocked her head, bouncing it from shoulder to shoulder. "I should be, but you made me forget everything after that last song."

Brady appeared at Rachel's elbow. "Good show, babe. Maybe a bit too much vibrato though?"

"For crying out loud, Shaw! This isn't _American Idol_. No one's gonna vote her off if it's not perfect," Santana snapped. "I seriously doubt anyone here has analyzed her performance besides you."

Rachel attempted to placate both her best friend and her boyfriend. "I appreciate your opinion, honey, but we made sure to calibrate the sound system to reduce my vibrato, so we had that covered."

"Rachel, you can't lose your image by giving a subpar performance."

Santana rolled her eyes. "You would know all about subpar performances, wouldn't you? Tony nominations don't come to the mediocre, do they?"

Santana obviously hit a nerve because Brady whirled on the Latina, advancing on Santana before he hit the rather insistent wall that was his girlfriend.

"Alright, you two, to your corners." Rachel scolded both. "We're here to have a good time."

"I'm gonna get a drink," Brady mumbled, already turning and heading to the bar.

Tension dissipated slightly, they all returned to their places at the table. Quinn hitched a head towards Brady. "What's his deal?"

Santana snorted. "He thinks he's a better actor than he actually is. When awards season started and Tony nominations came out, he was the only one of the principle cast not to be nominated. You should have seen the stink he raised when most people weren't watching."

"So why is Rachel with him?" Quinn ventured, casting a skeptical glance at the man as he sulked at the bar.

Santana sighed, finishing off her drink. "Rachel has this nasty habit of getting a bit too caught up in her leading men. She's a romantic, so…"

Quinn nodded sagely. "Nothing spells romance quite like falling for your male lead."

"Yeah. I love my hobbit, but she tends to have tunnel vision when it comes to matters of the heart. All she sees is the leading man potential. It's been like that since high school." Santana shrugged. "I learned awhile ago that nothing works to deter her when she gets into her Lovestruck Mode. Believe me, I've tried everything."

Quinn could only guess what 'everything' entailed. "Seriously, Santana, you two have the weirdest relationship."

Santana shrugged. "I'm only like that around her because I know she can take it. She needs that sort of thing or you wouldn't be able to get her ego through the door. I love her to death, but if she doesn't stay grounded, you'll get some crazy intense demand for just brown, pretzel M&Ms or some shit like that."

xxx-xxx-xxx

The night continued on a better note than before. Brady had disappeared, but Quinn didn't pay him much mind. Puck stayed for a bit before leaving; he had a game Sunday afternoon. The drinks kept flowing courtesy of the restaurant, and the group found themselves way on their way to a rather intoxicated state. Quinn turned back to the group after saying goodbye to Declan. She nudged Rachel as Brittany and Santana cuddled off to the side.

"Question. Why does Brittany refer to herself and Santana as dolphins?"

Rachel laughed. "Brittany has long been in the belief that dolphins are just gay sharks."

Quinn nodded. For some reason, that made complete sense.

Rachel bit her lip, eyeing Quinn carefully. "You're…_alright_ with them, right?"

Quinn waved a hand. "Please. Those two are so obvious. I would have been shocked if you would have told me they were 'just friends.'"

Rachel nodded slowly. "Yeah, but…" she shook her head. "I don't know what I'm asking. It's just…different I guess," she hedged. "You know, being okay with it and being comfortable around it."

"Little Songbird, I wouldn't have taken this role if I wasn't alright with homosexuality." Quinn tossed back her drink. "Trust me when I say I'm more okay with it than you know."

Rachel nodded. "Good." She shook her head with a chuckle. "Hanging around me, you'll be very much exposed to homosexuality."

"It's alright with me," she assured Rachel. Quinn took another drink. She wasn't ready to tell Rachel she was gay. Not yet, anyway.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn watched Rachel in slight fascination. The Broadway starlet was completely in her element, signing autographs – Quinn noticed the presence of a rather prominent star in her signature – posing for pictures, and even chatting with some fans. She could tell that Rachel was winding down, though. She had gotten quieter and was nursing a glass of water.

Santana looked to the little diva. "I think she's about done. We should take her back." She looked to Brittany, but the blonde seemed like she wasn't quite ready to turn in for the night.

Quinn frowned, thinking of the other member of their group that could take Rachel back to the hotel. "Where's Brady?"

Santana shrugged. "Last I saw, he was talking with that bimbo from one of the online Broadway blogs."

Quinn sighed. "I'll try to find him." She made a couple of laps around the restaurant, but Rachel's boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. Making her way back to the table, she saw that Santana had corralled her girl and was ushering Brittany back.

"We'll come back once we get Tiny back to the hotel," Santana was saying.

"No, you guys stay," Quinn interjected the pair. "I'll take her back to my place."

Santana bit her lip, looking from Rachel to Brittany. "You sure? It's no problem and all."

Quinn waved away the assertion. "Yeah, it's no big deal. I have a lot of room and it's closer."

"Alright." Santana quirked a small smile. "You're alright, Frosty."

Quinn didn't have time to think about the nickname, gathering Rachel up and slinging an arm around the girl's waist. "See you guys."

Niceties exchanged to everyone, she led Rachel out the front doors of the restaurant. They had barely eclipsed the threshold when the camera flashes exploded in front of them. Quinn groaned, waving for the restaurant's security detail to help them push through the mob.

"Miss Lucas! Miss Lucas, over here!"

"Miss Lucas, what can you tell us about the movie?"

"Miss Berry, are you two actually friends or is this just a publicity ploy?"

Quinn rolled her eyes at the last one. Luckily, Rachel was sober enough to know to keep her head down and just continue walking. Depositing Rachel into the backseat of the Range Rover, Quinn gave the driver her address.

During the drive, Rachel had fallen asleep, sagging against the blonde. As the driver cruised into the driveway of Quinn's beach house, she tried to get the girl to wake up, only to have Rachel sag even more heavily against her. "C'mon, Rachel, work with me…"

Rachel merely snuggled into her, emitting a cute little snore. Giving up, Quinn scooped the little diva into her arms. "Alright, Little Songbird…we'll do this the hard way."

"You smell good," Rachel mumbled, her nose buried in the crook of Quinn's neck. "You always smell good. Sweet and flowery…"

Quinn chuckled, juggling Rachel to unlock and open the door. She glanced down to find Charlie waiting for her, a disapproving look on his face at the late hour…well, as much of a disapproving look as a dog could muster.

"Hey, Charlie," Quinn whispered to not disturb her package. "You wanna help me out here?"

Charlie considered the point for a moment before he rotated towards the hallway. He reared back on his hind legs, using his forepaws to turn the knob to one of the guest rooms. As Quinn got Rachel some clothes to sleep in, Charlie turned down the bed, careful not to get any of his hair onto the sheets. He turned around, one paw over his eyes as Quinn undressed Rachel to help her get more comfortable.

"Alright, Rachel. Lift." Thankful that the little diva was cooperating, Quinn wrestled her into the boxer shorts and t-shirt.

She glanced down to Charlie, stroking his head. "Good boy."

Quinn turned back to Rachel, helping her into the large bed. She placed the small glass of water and the aspirin by the bedside table. Drawing the blankets up around her, Quinn paused as a small hand covered hers. "Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

Rachel smiled. It was a bit drunkenly, so the radiance was a bit dimmed, but it still had the same effect. "Thanks for taking care of me."

Quinn smiled softly, brushing Rachel's hair back from her forehead. "No problem."

Rachel closed her eyes, a smile on her face. "Good night, Quinn."

"Night, Little Songbird."

"I like it when you call me Little Songbird," Rachel mumbled, snuggling under the blanket as Quinn turned off the light. Shakily, Quinn rose, opening the door and ushering Charlie out. She sighed heavily, leaning back against the door.

"Charlie…I think I'm falling in love with her." Quinn glanced down at the Labrador. "Now what do I do?"

Not for the first time, Charlie ducked his head, covering his face with both paws. He was glad he was a dog. Life was so much easier…

* * *

><p><em>Okay, so Quinn has figured it all out. She's trying to sort out this revelation and exactly what it means to her. But what's going to happen when she sees the more diva-ish side of Rachel? Will it knock her savior down from the pedestal she's erected. And, more importantly, is Rachel aware of Quinn's attraction to her?<em>

_I hope you all liked the direction we're going with this. If you haven't figured it out already, Quinn has obviously built up this idealistic view of Rachel, half influenced by her past and half influenced with how she's interacted with Rachel so far. The next chapter will be Quinn realizing that Rachel isn't quite the idealized version she built up._

_I took the scene from Upright Cabaret from a video I found of Lea Michele singing "Touch Me" a couple years ago. Talk about your shot to the heart. Anyone who believes she lip-synchs or auto-tunes needs to check those videos. As a fan from all the way back to Spring Awakening, I know for a fact none of those accusations are plausible. The songs featured in that scene are "Touch Me" from _Spring Awakening_, "Bittersweet Symphony" by The Verve, "Leather and Lace" by Stevie Nicks, feat. Don Henley, and "Gimme, Gimme" from _Thoroughly Modern Millie_._

_As always, feel free to leave a review or comment either here or on Twitter. See you all next time!_

_*ISP_


	7. Chapter 6

&H

**WARNING:** Hints of domestic abuse in this chapter, just in the flashback. Nothing graphic, but it is touched upon and alluded to. Just a heads up for anyone that might not wish to read. Also Russell Fabray uses some pretty harsh language since he's quite the bigot. Please feel free to skip ahead to the main part of the story.

_Whew, we are hitting the stride with this chapter. I'm actually pretty pumped with what's featured in here. We get a little bit of everything with some Lucy times, some Quinn/Rachel bonding featuring a bit of Charlie, a big part of Mia's backstory in the D scenes, and Rachel taking a closer look at her future and where people stand in it._

_To __**military anon**__, thank you for your correction! I've tried to do as much research as I could to make the story as plausible as possible, but I know you can't find everything on the Internet! I would love to pick your brain to make that part of the story as realistic as I can. If it's alright with you, please leave some sort of contact info through a PM or something…And yes, we will spend some time on Sloane's military career. That scar means something, after all!_

_Oh, and the daddies Berry get a small cameo in this chapter! It's not very substantial, but it's just another connection Quinn and Rachel have. I just about swooned when they said John Barrowman mentioned he would be happy to play one of Rachel's dads. Unfortunately, apparently it is not meant to be…So when you're thinking of Rachel's fathers, think Boris Kodjoe as Rachel's Dad, Miles Berry, and John Barrowman as Rachel's Poppa, Isaac Berry. I know, they look nothing like the daddies Berry seen in the pilot, but I couldn't help but think of them in my characterization of them, lol._

_Thanks again to __**Azuri-chan**__ who has brought the Lima Heights Adjacent out of Santana with the great translations!_

_So this chapter's theme is 'fall from grace.' Basically, Quinn has built up Rachel in her mind. Now, she's about to see that her shining star is just as human as the rest of them. And she's not the only one…_

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 6<span>

_** At nine years old, Lucy Fabray had a very simplistic view of life. It was very easy. She was supposed to listen to her parents, mind her big sister, and not do anything that God would send her to hell for. She liked to think that she was doing okay at all of these. **_

_**She thought she had a pretty good grasp on how things were. When she grew up, she was supposed to marry a boy (she wasn't sure she liked that idea; most of the boys she knew were icky) then the stork would give them a baby if the mommy and daddy were good. It was like Christmas, except with a baby. What she didn't get was how it worked when it wasn't a mommy and daddy. Like Jimmy Conners, for example. He had two dads, which seemed pretty cool, but for some reason, Daddy didn't like Jimmy or his dads. She was nice to Jimmy, even though she was never allowed to have him come over or go to his house. She didn't get it. She had talked to Mr. and Mr. Conners (it was kind of confusing with two Misters, but she figured that one out by using Mr. Dan and Mr. Kevin) when her daddy wasn't around, and they were really nice. Mr. Dan had a really deep and funny voice, and Mr. Kevin was really strong. He could lift both Jimmy and his older brother Jack at the same time! It was the only time Lucy didn't listen to her daddy, but she figured some people did a lot of worse things, and God probably had better things to do. She wondered what it was about Mr. Dan and Mr. Kevin that her daddy didn't like. Maybe it was a grown-up thing. **_

_**However, Lucy Fabray was also an intelligent child. She knew when something was wrong. It was hard to see your daddy do something bad. She had a feeling her daddy wasn't happy when he slammed the door really loud after he came home from work one day.**_

_**Russell threw his suit jacket and briefcase on the couch, loosening his tie from his neck. "Go get me a drink," he barked to his wife.**_

_**Knowing how Russell could get in those sorts of moods, Judy quickly moved towards the console bar in the living room and filled a tumbler with his favorite whisky. She held it out to him, unfazed when he snatched it out of her grasp. "What happened?"**_

"_**They dropped me from the account," Russell snarled, downing is drink in one gulp. "That professor we were providing a grant for to down at Lima University? The academic that had the 'revolutionary' English Literature program? Dr. Isaac Berry?" Russell surged to his feet and poured himself another generous drink from one of the few crystal decanters adorning the top of the bar, throwing down the liquid. "Yeah, he's a fucking faggot."**_

_**Judy recoiled back. "He's a what?"**_

"_**A fucking faggot," Russell spat. "A homosexual. The degenerate heathen was proud of it too. He was going off about his 'husband' and his 'daughter.' Can you believe they let that kind be professors and policemen?"**_

"_**What did you do?" Judy asked.**_

"_**I told him he could shove his program up his ass. He was going to burn in hell anyway," Russell growled.**_

_**Judy sighed. "Russell, no one is going to take it well when you say they're going to burn in hell. Frankly, I'm not surprised they dropped you."**_

"_**Dammit, woman, don't you dare judge my actions. The Lord's views are very clear on homosexuality." Russell grabbed another drink. "At least Franco backed me up down at O'Kelly's. Bought me a drink to celebrate. Good man."**_

"_**Russell!" Judy looked alarmed. "And you drove home? You know you shouldn't be driving after drinking. I could have picked you up."**_

_** Russell whirled towards his wife. "Judy, I am a grown man, I know when I've had enough."**_

_** "Russell you look like you can barely stand."**_

_** "Dammit, woman, I am perfectly capable of knowing when I've had too much."**_

_** Lucy knew when Daddy took that tone, he was about a second away from yelling. She didn't like it when he yelled. He was really scary and mean. She backed away, heading towards the bedrooms. The further up the stairs she got, the lower the yelling got. At least that was good. Little Lucy snuck into her big sister's room. Frannie was sitting up in her bed, headphones covering her ears and she was flipping through a sports magazine. Lucy reached up, tugging at Frannie's shirt hem.**_

_** "Frannie?"**_

_** Frannie glanced up and found her little sister at the edge of her bed, a scared look on her chubby little face. Frannie waved her forward, and Lucy scampered to the safety of her big sister's arms.**_

_** "What happened, Little Lucy Q?"**_

_** "Something happened at Daddy's work," Lucy answered. "He's not happy and he called a Mr. Dr. Berry that word he calls Jimmy Conners's daddies."**_

_** Frannie swore under her breath, tightening her arms around Lucy. She looked down at her highly impressionable sister. "Don't use that word, Luce. That's a bad word."**_

_** "Then why does Daddy use it?"**_

_** Frannie sighed. "Because Daddy thinks that those types of people are bad. You and I know better though."**_

_** Lucy nodded. "It's scary when Daddy yells," she mumbled, burying her face in Frannie's stomach. Both girls jumped when they heard a loud bang and their father's enraged voice ringing through the house.**_

_** "It's okay, Lucy Q," Frannie whispered, holding the shaking little body to her. "It's okay."**_

_** "Can I sleep with you, Frannie?"**_

_** "Yeah, little sis." Frannie turned down the covers. "Here." She handed Lucy her big, stuffed monkey. "You can sleep with Dude."**_

_** It wasn't quite her stuffed lion, Leo, but she was too scared to go grab him at the moment. She didn't like feeling like this and didn't like that her daddy was the one who made her feel like this. Trembling still, she fell into a fitful sleep with Frannie's arms around her.**_

_** The next day, Lucy noticed her daddy wasn't at breakfast. Mommy said he was at the office. She noticed her mom was walking funny, like Frannie did when she hurt herself playing soccer for the JV team. Mommy's cheek looked funny too. There was a little bit of purple on it like when Lucy got a little messy eating her PB&J with her favorite grape jelly. **_

_**Lucy Fabray was a smart child. She could add two and two to get four. What she didn't understand was why her daddy did this. Was it because he was angry? But daddies shouldn't hit mommies when they were angry. Her mommy always told her it was bad to hit people. She had been grounded for, like, forever when (alright, it was two weeks, but still!) she had hit Frannie that one time. Then, Lucy realized this wasn't the first time she had seen her mommy like that. Her daddy had gotten mad and yelled and drank a lot of that brown stuff too. **_

_**Lucy Fabray was smart enough to add two and two and get four.**_

_**It was that day that Lucy realized that her father wasn't the knight in shining armor she always thought he was.**_

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, bathing the tiny form swathed in blankets half-kicked off from the unconscious movements of slumber in its radiance. Rachel Berry stirred, grumbling at the harsh glare and turning her face away from its rays. Finally succumbing to the dawn of the morning, she sighed, flinging the covers off her face. Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling that was completely unfamiliar to her. She looked down at herself and found she wasn't clothed in her outfit from the night before. Those garments were folded neatly in the comfy chair by the large bay window. Instead, she was clothed in black boxers and a t-shirt that mimicked the torso of a Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtle right down to the underbelly and the sash around the "waist." She was Donatello if she remembered the Turtles' names correctly. She vaguely remembered Quinn undressing her and tucking her in the night before. Rachel giggled to herself at her ensemble.

"Oh, Quinn. You _are_ a nerd."

She jumped as a rumbling sound disrupted her thoughts, and she rotated to the source to find herself staring into a pair of dark eyes from just peering at her from just beneath the edge of the bed. She relaxed as the head ascended up to rest on the covers. It was just a dog. Rachel turned to the canine. "Hi there, buddy."

The dog tilted its head, surveying her with acutely intelligent eyes. It lifted a paw in an obvious gesture. Rachel laughed, taking the offering and shaking.

"Nice to meet you too." Rachel sighed as she felt the pounding headache characteristic of a hangover. "Dear Patti LuPone, I'm never drinking again…" She glanced down as Charlie nosed her hand, rising up on his hind legs to put his forepaws on the side table. She saw a glass of water and two aspirin on the surface and smiled.

"Aren't you helpful?" She took the pills and water before looking at the chocolate Labrador again. "So where's your mistress?"

The dog craned its head forward reached out and grabbed the hem of her shirt in its teeth. He tugged gently. Rachel took the hint and rose from the bed. She followed the dog as he nosed the door open, padding out into the hall and towards the kitchen.

It was a massive room, sunlight streaming in from the huge screen doors leading out to a deck that offered quite the gorgeous view of the beach. High tech appliances covering every inch, and the open layout lead directly to a dining area and living room with a rather massive television over the mantle. An iPod dock was situated in the corner of the counter, playing Madonna as Quinn moved to the beat, alternating between the stove, the waffle maker, and the island in the center of the sprawling kitchen.

Rachel leaned against the doorway, taking in her costar. Quinn had obviously just woken as well. She was clad in her sleep attire of short, blue plaid boxer shorts and a loose, white, v-neck t-shirt, a black apron covering her torso. Her short hair was tousled and fluffy, the golden strands surrounding her head like a lion's mane.

Quinn fished a waffle out of the massive waffle maker, laying it on a platter already piled high with like waffles. Moving to the island, she placed the platter down by the small buffet she had set up. She raised the spatula to her mouth, twirling in a circle.

_Papa I know you're going to be upset  
><em>_'Cause I was always your little girl  
><em>_But you should know by now  
><em>_I'm not a baby_

_You always taught me right from wrong  
><em>_I need your help, daddy please be strong  
><em>_I may be young at heart  
><em>_But I know what I'm saying_

_The one you warned me all about  
><em>_The one you said I could do without  
><em>_We're in an awful mess, and I don't mean maybe - please_

_Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep  
><em>_Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep  
><em>_But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby, oh  
><em>_I'm gonna keep my baby, mmm..._

Rachel couldn't help but laugh, whistling and applauding loudly. "Encore!"

Quinn jumped at the ruckus from the doorway and she whirled around. "Hey. Good morning." She blushed, lowering the spatula. "Sorry, I tried to be quiet."

"It's alright, I totally understand. From experience, Madonna's songs must be belted at the top of one's lungs. Besides, I was already up." Rachel nodded toward the chocolate Labrador nosing at the island, waiting for his chance to grab some scraps. "Your dog so kindly ushered me in here."

"Charlie!" Quinn scolded, glaring at the dog who cocked his head innocently, scooting subtly away from the island counter top. "You were supposed to let her sleep. And don't think I'm not watching you, buster!" She turned to Rachel. "I'm sorry. He knows better than to disturb anyone in the guest room."

Rachel giggled, reaching down to scratch behind Charlie's ears. "It's alright. He was very helpful this morning."

Quinn pointed the spatula warningly at the dog as he tried to inch towards the platter of bacon. "I swear he's like a human. He has a mind of his own."

Rachel grinned, pointing at the blonde's attire. "Nice apron."

Quinn blushed looking down at the black apron adorned with the saying: 'This kitchen observes the Five Second Rule: If it's on the ground for less than five seconds, _it's still good_.' She ruffled her hair sheepishly. "It was a gift from Declan. He survived college because I knew how to cook." She waved to the platters on the island. "Help yourself. I made sure they were all vegan friendly. The bacon and eggs are obviously real, but the rest of the stuff you can eat." She slapped her spatula down, inches away from Charlie's sniffing nose. The dog yelped, scrambling off the counter. Quinn merely glared her admonishment.

Rachel beamed. "That's thoughtful of you."

Quinn shrugged. "It was nothing."

Rachel took a seat at the island, loading her plate with waffles, fruit, hash browns, and the vegan alternative to sausage. She smiled as Quinn slid a cupful of coffee and a carton of soymilk in front of her.

"Quinn, this is wonderful."

Quinn shrugged again, loading her own plate with bacon, eggs, and hash browns, the proportion of bacon to the other foods ridiculously imbalanced. "I don't mind. I love to cook. Plus the whole vegan thing was a great challenge."

Rachel eyed the blonde. "You went grocery shopping this morning, didn't you? There's no way you just _happened_ to have all this lying around."

Quinn blushed, averting her eyes as she stooped down to feed Charlie.

Rachel glared, her hands on her hips. Her seated position didn't allow for a proper foot stomp. "Quinn Lucas! Fruit and hash browns would have sufficed just fine!"

Quinn straightened. "It's fine, Rachel. No trouble at all. I usually take a run in the morning. I just so happened to run to the grocery store and back." She turned pleading eyes to the brunette. "Please don't make a big deal about it."

Rachel kept her stern gaze on her costar before relenting, spearing a sausage and shoving it in her mouth. She pointed her fork at Quinn. "But don't think I'm not gonna get you back."

Quinn cocked her head. "Why does that sound like you're gonna put a hit on me or something?"

Rachel broke, giggling. "Duh, haven't you heard, Quinn? Totally in Witness Protection."

Quinn nodded her head. "That actually makes a lot of sense."

"Right?"

xxx-xxx-xxx

The pair of them stood by the sink, rinsing off their dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. It was an oddly domestic scene, comfortable and natural for both women. Rachel dried her hands off, turning slightly to lean back against the counter.

"Thanks again for taking care of me."

"No big deal," Quinn returned, closing the dishwasher door and starting the cycle. "You're more than welcome to stay and hang out."

Rachel gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "Spending a day with the ever-elusive Quinn Lucas! You've sent my heart all a-flutter."

"Smartass," Quinn mumbled.

"I'd love to," Rachel answered sincerely. She cocked her head, appraising the blonde. "What's on the schedule? How does Miss Quinn spend her days?"

Quinn grinned, pointing. Rachel followed her finger to find Charlie nosing a tennis ball in their direction. He sat back on his haunches, gazing expectantly at the two humans.

"It depends on him." Quinn chuckled ruefully. "Sometimes I wonder who's the human and who's the canine." She gestured to the stairs. "Come on, you can borrow some clothes."

The pair ascended the stairs to the master bedroom and bathroom, more guest rooms, and Quinn's entertainment room.

Rachel hovered at Quinn's doorway. "So this is the sanctuary of the elusive Quinn Lucas."

Surprisingly neat, the room was a clear reflection of the personality behind the actress. One wall boasted a wonderfully painted mural of a female surfer carving through a tube with a clear blue sky in the background splashed with many different shades of blue that bled to the ceiling and the opposite wall. The other two walls were less adorned. Where the bed was braced against was light gray wall adorned with black and white photographs that made a collage of some sort. A television and stereo system sat against the last wall, a bookcase stretching from floor to ceiling. A pair of curtains framed French windows that led out to the balcony.

Rachel smiled, taking a lap around the room as Quinn rummaged through the walk-in closet. "This room is so you."

Quinn chuckled. "I'm kind of scared to ask what you mean by that."

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know, equal parts mysterious, gorgeous, and intriguing."

Quinn shook her head. "I'm not mysterious."

"Oh, I so beg to differ," Rachel countered. "Tell me one person that knows exactly how big of a nerd you are." She hitched her head back to the entertainment room where movie posters of _Star Wars_, the original _Tron_, and Christopher Reeves's _Superman_ hung proudly.

Quinn quirked a sad smile. "Maybe I just never found someone worth showing."

Rachel stared at her costar for a long moment. That sentence told her so much about exactly who was Quinn Lucas and why she did the things she did. Rachel reached out, laying a hand on Quinn's arm.

"Well, I'm glad you deem me worthy."

Quinn merely smiled that small smile that was barely a twitch of her lips.

It was a warm, balmy day, so Quinn offered Rachel a tank top and a pair of sweatpants cut off just below the knee. She emerged from her own room in a black and teal Volcom bikini top and a pair of black board shorts, her short hair tied back as much as it could in a low ponytail.

Quinn slipped on a pair of Ray Ban wayfarers, leading the diva out to the deck. "C'mon, the sand and surf await!"

"Oh, Quinn, this place is gorgeous!" Rachel stepped out onto to the deck that led down to the private beach.

A hot tub was situated by a bar and professional-looking grill. On the other end was a small, shower right beside a rack with four surfboards of various sizes. It was the perfect setting to relax or host a party.

Charlie barked impatiently, dropping the ball in Quinn's hand before scampering out onto the sand.

"Alright, you monster, we're going!" Quinn reared back, chucking the tennis ball out into the distance, watching as Charlie raced after it, kicking up sand it his wake. His two human companions followed after him at a more sedate pace. Rachel tilted her head back, taking in the crisp afternoon air and the warm breeze fluttering around them.

"This is amazing. I totally get why you'd want a beach house."

Quinn nodded. "I like my privacy, which is why my next neighbor is a way's away, but I've always felt calm at the beach. It was my safe haven to escape and be alone for a while. I kinda found this place by accident. It had been for sale for awhile; no one really wanted it. I fell in love with it almost immediately. It was pretty bad before I had it fixed up, but there was just something about it, a certain sort of charm."

"You designed all of that?" Rachel motioned back to the house.

"Yup," Quinn answered. "When I saved enough money, I bought it and made it my own."

"I just keep learning amazing things about you, Miss Quinn."

Quinn chuckled, shrugging. "It's nothing crazy. I just have layers."

"Like an onion," Rachel commented.

"Yes, like an onion," Quinn laughed, catching the allusion. "Are you calling me an ogre?"

Rachel shook her head. "Nope. I'm calling you an onion!"

The moment lingered, heavy with intent and possibilities. Rachel wasn't quite sure what the small smile on Quinn's face meant, but it was nice to see.

Quinn opened her mouth – for what, she wasn't quite sure – only to yelp as she felt a push at the small of her back. Taken by surprise and thoroughly off balance, she tumbled forward onto the sand. Rolling over on her back, Quinn glared as an unmistakable laugh rumbled from her dog's mouth as he hovered over her. "CHARLIE! YOU MANGY MUTT!"

Rachel laughed at the big dog's antics. "Dude, you just got pwned by a dog."

Quinn scowled, lunging forward to snatch Charlie by the collar. He wriggled free, head-butting her gently, driving her back to the sand. "Freakin' menace."

Rachel shook her head. "He's adorable."

Quinn chuckled, wrapping Charlie up in a light headlock. "Yeah. When he's not sneaking bacon or being a weenie." She dropped a kiss to his furry head, conceding victory to him. "He's my buddy. I got him when I booked _Queen of Babble_." Quinn smiled as Charlie padded over to Rachel, laying his head on her lap. "He likes you."

"He's such a sweetheart." Rachel ran her fingers through his fur. "I love Reno, but I've always wanted a dog, too."

"There are a lot of places you can adopt a dog here," Quinn remarked. "I can take you if you're serious about it."

Rachel brightened. "I would love that."

Quinn clambered onto the log beside Rachel. "I do have to warn you, don't expect to get a Charlie. He's special."

Rachel nodded. "He sure is." She watched Quinn play with her dog. This was a free, affectionate, playful Quinn that she had never seen before. The blonde was smiling freely, making faces at Charlie, jerking back with a laugh as the Labrador craned his head forward, trying to catch her nose. He loved to burrow into the taller blonde, laying his head on her shoulder.

"Can I ask you something?"

A corner of Quinn's mouth quirked upward in amusement. "Shoot."

"Why'd you get into acting?"

Quinn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rachel shrugged. "I don't know. I'm kind of curious, I guess. You're so good at it, I guess I just wondered how someone like you found something like this. Did you always know? Did it come eventually?"

Quinn cocked her head, contemplating her answer. Not many people asked this question. It was always when did you start acting, never really why. She had to think for a bit.

"You know, now that I think about it, everything about me and acting happened completely by accident," Quinn answered thoughtfully, rubbing Charlie's belly. "I was discovered in a coffee shop my sophomore year at USC after my agent, Grace Carson, bumped into me while I was studying for one of my philosophy classes."

"That was it?"

Quinn nodded. "Yup. My knee was sticking out, and she knocked it. Then she sat down and said that I had a face that belonged on television."

Rachel's eyebrows inched upward. "She actually said that?"

Quinn chuckled. "Yeah. I called bullshit on that, but she was dead serious." She continued to rub Charlie's belly. He was obviously enjoying it as his hind legs were kicking at about a mile a minute. "But I guess I think it's because I need it."

Rachel propped her chin on her fist. "What do you mean by that?"

"When I was younger, I always had to play up a certain image. Good, chaste Christian daughter." Quinn snorted. "Actually kinda failed at all three, really. Anyway, I learned really quick to turn off my emotions because emotions made you susceptible and weak. People could prey on your emotions." Quinn shrugged. "I guess acting let me feel emotions without the fear that people were gonna use them against me or perceive me as weak."

Rachel was absolutely riveted at Quinn's explanation. She had no idea acting held such a deep meaning to Quinn. Annoyed that his mistress was so concentrated on telling her story that she neglected to give him more belly rubbies, Charlie meandered over to Rachel to seek attention from her. Absently, the brunette stroked his fur as he laid his head on her knee again.

Quinn seemed to be in her own world, Rachel becoming more of a convenient audience rather than the main target of her story. "It became a challenge for me to be able to portray these feelings I always thought were dangerous to me. The things I figured were so simple but in reality were really complex. Like how to be happy but sad at the same time. I had to really look into myself and figure out why and how those sorts of things worked. Without acting, I don't know if I would have been able to really understand emotion." She sent a sideways glance to Rachel. "It's kind of like how you said singing is to you."

Rachel started in surprise. "You remember that?"

Quinn chuckled, "Believe it or not, Rachel, I remember everything you've ever said to me."

xxx-xxx-xxx

A couple hours later, Rachel returned to the hotel suite. Sliding the card into the slot, she opened the door to find Brittany hovering over an obviously down-for-the-count Santana.

"Rach!" Brittany bounced up, slinging her arms around her friend, looking remarkably awake. Rachel couldn't help but chuckle. Alcohol had quite a different effect on the perky blonde. She had a remarkable tolerance and very rarely experienced a hangover.

Brittany bit her lip as a rather agonized groan sounded through the living room. "Santana's got tummy rumblies."

An unintelligible string of noises came from in the room, and Rachel knew exactly why Santana had "tummy rumblies." By complete contrast, Santana did not handle alcohol well when she had indulged a bit too much, and when she tried to converse, no actually words were communicated, just sounds.

Brittany twirled a strand of her hair sheepishly. "Kinda my fault."

"Isn't it always?"

"Totally," Brittany agreed. "But to be fair, it's like super easy for me and San to make friends, and it's super rude to say no to people offering to buy drinks unless they're the grody boys that are just trying to get in our pants, but San's good at picking those ones out."

Santana was face down on the couch in the living room, groaning in anguish. She turned bleary, unfocused eyes, thick with the effects of her hangover to Rachel. It seemed like a supreme effort, but Santana managed to string a few words together. "Where were you?"

"I texted you. I was hanging out with Quinn at her place."

Her face smushed against the cushion, Santana shook her head. "Read words not good."

Rachel nodded her sympathy. Time had helped her be able to comprehend "San Speak" just as she had mastered "Britt Speak."

Brittany sank down on the couch beside her girlfriend, looking to Rachel. "So what did you do with Quinn?"

Rachel shrugged. "Nothing massive. Just breakfast and a walk on the beach with her dog. She really opened up to me though."

Brittany nodded sagely. "That's good. That means you're totally like Prince Phillip in _Sleeping Beauty_. You're fighting through the thorns. You just need to battle the evil witch dragon, kiss the Ice Queen, and everything will be like end credits."

Rachel laughed. "Oh, I don't know if Quinn wants me to kiss her."

Brittany shook her head. "Rach, you're totally gonna have to give her sweet lady kisses anyway. Just think of the movie as like practice. Like how our glee meetings were before competitions. Except don't wait until the last minute like at Nationals junior year. We could get a Finn situation, and no one wants that."

Before Rachel could try and sort that one out, Brittany continued. "But I'm happy you had a good time."

Rachel smiled, thinking back to the morning she and Quinn shared together. She nodded. "I think I'm finally beginning to understand her."

Brittany bounced happily, clapping her hands. Santana paled and bolted straight up, a hand over her mouth and sprinted to the bathroom. The unmistakable sounds of retching rang through the otherwise silent suite.

Britt bit her lip. "Whoops. My bad."

xxx-xxx-xxx

"CUT!"

Chris slumped down in his seat, ringers rubbing his temples in exasperation. He looked to the little brunette, the source of his frustration. "Come on, Rachel. What are you doing? This isn't anything like the Mia you've been giving us. What's the deal?"

Quinn took a step back as Chris approached Rachel, the beginnings of an argument already brewing. She definitely could admit she was a bit confused. Rachel had pretty much solidified a reputation as a consistent performer. She rarely needed more than a few takes for them to capture what they needed with whatever scene she was in. But today was uncharacteristically rough. Rachel was fumbling with lines, missing her marks, and the character she was portraying certainly wasn't the Mia she had established from her very first day on set.

She looked to where Brady was idling on the side, just behind Rachel's chair. She had seen him conversing with Rachel prior to this scene, and whatever he had said seemed to have affected the little diva because since then, she was aberrantly off.

Quinn's attention snapped back to the set as Rachel's piercing voice cut through her ruminations. "I will not compromise the integrity of this character and this film with what I believe is a mediocre acting decision! I am appalled at the accusation and thoroughly offended you would even think of insinuating such a thing!"

Her eyes widened as Rachel turned on her heel, storming off set to her trailer, leaving Chris staring into thin air, absolutely bewildered. To her right, Santana had ducked her head, shaking it back and forth, one hand covering her face. She was muttering under her breath in Spanish, and from what Quinn knew of the language, it wasn't complimentary.

"_Santo Dios, no me paga lo suficiente para lidiar con esto_."

Quinn moved towards Rachel's manager, waving her arm in the direction Rachel had stalked off.

"What the hell was that?"

Santana didn't answer for a moment, turning a murderous gaze to Brady. _"¿A quien soborno para que lo saque por sus pequeñas y asquerosas bolas de aqui?_"

"Santana?"

Santana finally turned her attention to Quinn and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "That was a Rachel Berry Diva Fit accompanied by the Rachel Berry Diva Storm-Out. Trademark pending." She dropped her head again, Spanish once again mixing in to her furious rant. "_¡Puta madre! Se va y me deja lidiar con las consecuencias. Le voy a quitar lo diva al estilo de_ Lima Heights Adjacent."

The fact that Santana had named what had just transpired, piqued Quinn's curiosity. "She does that often?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "How often do you breathe?"

"You're kidding, right?"

Santana shrugged. "It's unfortunate collateral to working with her. You learn to just deal with it."

Quinn's eyes widened. "No one should have to deal with it!"

Santana let out a deep breath, patiently beginning her explanation. "Allow me to educate you, Frosty."

It wasn't the first time Santana had used that nickname, and Quinn frowned. "Frosty?"

"Like Jack Frost, the snowman who's human underneath?" Santana ventured. At Quinn's blank stare, she threw her hands up in exasperation. "Whatever! Dude, it's a metaphor, just go with it."

"What the hell is with you people and metaphors?"

Santana looked at her curiously before nodding her head in comprehension. "Ah, I see Rachel's told you her gold star one?"

"Something like that," Quinn mumbled.

Santana waved a hand, bringing them back on track. "Anyway, look, the thing with Rachel is you learn to just excuse her diva tendencies."

"Why?"

"You tell me," Santana countered it. "Think about it. Ever since Rachel's been here, what's changed?"

Quinn obliged, listing what she could think of. "Well, the atmosphere around here is better. The chemistry between everyone is absolutely phenomenal; it was like Rachel was the missing piece. And we're way ahead of schedule since we don't waste too many takes. Rachel barely misses a line, today notwithstanding."

Santana nodded. "Exactly. You get a little diva, but you get the work ethic, talent, and that angelic, freakin' huge-ass voice you have no idea how a little person can project such a sound, too." Santana shrugged. "Easy trade."

"Is it really?" Quinn posed.

"Sure," Santana asserted. "Because Rachel is a consummate performer and professional, present circumstances notwithstanding."

Seeing Quinn wasn't quite convinced, Santana took another route. "Alright, let me lay it down for you, Frosty. Our sophomore year of high school, our quarterback Finn Hudson got roped into joining the school's glee club. Rachel, being head over heels for the dumb oaf, persuaded me and Britts to join with her. The day of our sectional competition, our cheerleading coach leaked our set list to the other glee clubs, basically forcing us to come up with a completely new performance. Rachel got on that stage with about ten minutes of preparation and belted out a Barbra Streisand number that basically won us the whole thing."

"Why are you telling me this, Santana?"

"Because that moment is wholly indicative of what Rachel is and does," Santana explained. "No matter the circumstances, when that spotlight is shining down on her, Rachel will deliver, and she will deliver big."

Quinn absorbed that for a long while. It was hard to think of the "upside" to Rachel's diva tendencies. She might have to ponder that point for awhile.

Santana nudged her towards the trailers. "Go talk to her."

Quinn frowned. "Why me?"

Santana stared at the blonde, the glint in her eyes quite significant. "Because she cares what you think."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn drew in a deep breath as she approached Rachel's trailer, ascending the steps. She could hear the diva muttering from behind the door. As she raised a fist to knock, vaguely she wondered just how it had gotten to this point, where she was the one chasing down wayward costars to bring them back. Quinn shook her head. Probably about the same time Rachel had made her inadvertently smile during their first scene together.

"Hey, Little Songbird." Quinn gazed down at Rachel where the starlet was on her couch, her head in her hands. "You alright?"

Rachel sighed, lifting her head to look at her costar. "I'm sorry, Quinn. That was completely unprofessional of me."

Quinn sank down beside her costar. "You want to talk about it?"

"I'm a bit embarrassed," Rachel admitted. "I'm a grown woman, for crying out loud. I shouldn't be throwing temper tantrums like I'm five. I outgrew this in high school. Or so I thought," Rachel mumbled.

"Santana called it the Rachel Berry Diva Fit accompanied by the Rachel Berry Diva Storm-Out, trademark pending," Quinn remarked with a small smile.

"Santana would know," Rachel agreed. "She's witnessed it enough."

"This sounds so unlike you," Quinn hedged. "I mean, yeah, you're a bit high-maintenance, but never like this."

Rachel chuckled ruefully. "Oh, you don't know the half of it."

"Why don't you explain it to me?" Quinn offered. "It might make you feel better."

"When I was younger, I had a bit of an inferiority complex," Rachel began. "It's very easy to get stuck in our hometown, to become the aptly-styled 'Lima Loser.' I think my greatest fear was that I wasn't going to make it, that I would remain in Lima. So I threw everything into my dream. I became obsessive, demanding, a perfectionist of the worst kind. I alienated myself from my friends. I became the worst type of diva."

"Why?"

"I didn't want everyone to be right," Rachel admitted. "In high school, people didn't think much of my Broadway aspirations. They didn't think I'd make it. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction that all the energy they spent in the past knocking me down and ridiculing my dream would be validated. I demanded the spotlight to ensure that my dream would come true."

"But you're not like that now," Quinn countered. "You're one of the least selfish actors I know."

"Brittany and Santana helped me with that." Rachel chuckled to herself. "They reminded me that even if I validated my dream, it would be an empty victory if I didn't have anyone to share it with at the same time."

Quinn nodded. "That's true."

"I really do owe a lot to Santana," Rachel confessed. "If it wasn't for her, I wouldn't be able to handle criticism."

"It's one thing to handle criticism, but it's another thing to have it affect the way you act," Quinn reasoned. She looked Rachel in the eye. "You know, I've never seen you second-guess yourself since you've been here. One thing that has never lacked was your conviction in your character. You've made strong acting choices and you've never wavered from them. Why are you starting now?"

Rachel ducked her head down, running her hands through her hair. "I don't know."

"Sure you do," Quinn countered. "This didn't start until Brady came to visit you," She sighed. "I hate to cry wolf, but…"

"Brady has always been critical of my performance," Rachel defended. It seemed half-hearted to Quinn.

"Yeah to the point where he's putting you down? To the point where you're second-guessing yourself? You don't need him to critique you, Rachel. That's Chris's job, and he's been more than happy with your performance."

Quinn moved off her spot on the couch, kneeling down in front of Rachel. "You're an amazing actor. You have a way of drawing everyone who shares a scene with you in. You elicit emotions that are perfect for the moment. And, most importantly, you've made me better." Quinn grabbed Rachel's hands. "Don't regress back to that insecure, unreasonable Rachel Berry. Be the Rachel Berry that you've been since you've stepped onto the lot, the one that knows exactly how she's gonna play her character, everyone else be damned. That Rachel Berry is pretty kickass."

Rachel glanced up, meeting Quinn's stare. God, Quinn's eyes were so beautiful, the overall jade green tint with flecks of brown and gold mingling in. They were different this time from all the other times she had locked eyes with her blonde costar. Quinn had always held her emotions behind a veil, as though a curtain had been pulled shut, barring anyone who wished to look in. But gazing into those gorgeous hazel spheres, Rachel could _see_ Quinn clear as a cloudless sky. Rachel could see fond affection, passionate vehemence behind everything Quinn claimed, and something indescribable. Whatever that ambiguous other emotion was, however, it shone insanely powerful in Quinn's eyes. Rachel smiled, feeling Quinn's confidence in her wash through every pore of her body. She reached out a hand, fingers tracing along the sculpted cheekbones. How someone was _this_ gorgeous naturally, Rachel would never know. Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to equally soft skin. She felt, more than heard, the slight hitch of surprise in Quinn's breathing. Pulling away, she used her thumb to wipe away the sheen of lip-gloss smudged on Quinn's pale skin.

"Thank you, Quinn."

A faint blush tainted Quinn's cheeks. "No problem, Little Songbird." She stood, dusting off her jeans and holding out a hand. "You ready?"

Rachel closed her eyes, rolling her head from one side to another. The lids fluttered open, revealing the glint of fierce determination. Rachel took the hand, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet.

"Please lead the way."

Rachel strode purposefully back on set. She stopped before Chris, the picture of humility.

"Christian, I apologize for my outburst. That was wholly unprofessional. It will not happen again." Rachel took her marker. "I am ready when you are."

Chris stared at her a long minute before nodding his head, signaling to the crew.

"You heard the lady." He ascended down to his chair. "Places, please."

Chris placed his headphones over his ears, adjusting his glasses with a sharp jab of his index finger. "ACTION!"

* * *

><p><em>It was a perfect day for the annual Greensborough carnival held in the town square. The sun shone through a cloudless sky and the temperature was balmy with the hint of a breeze. The people of the small town gathered in the square, milling about, weaving through the various booths and rides. The atmosphere was jolly and relaxed, tensions absent as all indulged in the carnival's frivolity<em>

_Sloane was chatting with Mia and her father when they all jumped at the scream coming from across the square. JJ and his cronies, including JJ's Yes Man, Greg "Bug" Halpert were standing over Scott Fairbanks. He was a good kid, just graduated from Greensborough High, and was working at his father's auto shop. Scotty had forever idolized JJ, constantly attempting to be a part of his motley crew of Greensborough boys who couldn't get out if someone gave them a one-way ticket. The way Scott was clutching his leg, blood seeping from between his hands, and the buzz saw sitting in front of Doug Liebert's hardware store where he was doing some remodeling that was lying on the ground, disengaged from its stand, it was pretty obvious what happened. _

_ Everyone seemed frozen, unsure of what to do. Mia, however, snapped into action. She ran over to Scott, kneeling down beside him, eyes scanning over the wound. She lofted her head, finding Sloane in the crowd._

_ "Sloane! Go to the bakery. Under the counter there's a large red bag. Grab it and bring it here." When Sloane hesitated and eyed her confusedly, Mia raised her voice. "NOW!"_

_ Sloane jumped, sprinting back to Sweet Rose, quickly finding the bag in question. Running it back to Mia, she handed it to the smaller woman. Deft hands undid the catches and opened the bag wide. Sloane was surprised to find an array of tools and syringes laid out before them. There were things she had only seen on shows like _ER_ or _Grey's Anatomy_._

_Sloane could only watch in as Mia squatted down by the young man, not even worrying about the blood, barking out orders as she worked on Scott._

"_Bill, call an ambulance, tell them where we are and explain his injuries."_

"_Joan, Go get Scotty's dad and tell him what happened."_

_Sloane knelt down, looking to the small woman as the rest of Greensborough could only watch in morbid fascination. "What can I do to help?"_

_Mia's eyes met hers, and Sloane didn't recognize. They were calm, intense, and authoritative. She grabbed Sloane's hand, placing it over Scott's._

"_Talk to him," she answered. "Keep him awake and alert." Mia looked down to the gaping wound. "He's gonna want to go into shock, but we need him to be coherent. He needs to stay relatively calm."_

_Sloane nodded, glancing down to Scott. A sweat had broken out on his forehead, and his breaths were ragged and shallow._

"_Easy, Scotty. Come on, man. Mia's gonna take care of you. This isn't any worse than when you fell outta Ben Buckley's tree."_

_Scott huffed out a groan, hazy eyes finding Sloane's. "Liar," he grunted through clenched teeth. _

_Mia shot Sloane a grateful smile. She looked down at the wound, swearing to herself. "Shit, he might have caught an artery. We need to stop the bleeding, or he won't make it to the hospital." She looked to the anguished young man. "Stay with me, Scotty. You're gonna be alright."_

_Mia worked frantically but methodically, her hands moving rapidly to save the young man, all the while talking in a low soothing tone to Scott. Aside from the occasional grunts of pain, Scott was staying calm, breathing deeply as he clenched Sloane's hand like a lifeline. To Sloane's astonishment, Mia managed to staunch the flow of blood, ensuring the man would be able to make it to the hospital to be operated on _

_The ambulance screeched up, sirens squealing. Carefully, they lifted Scott onto a gurney, loading him onto the back of the bus before roaring away to Greensborough General._

_JJ shuffled anxiously, hands on his hips, a superior look on his face. He rotated to Bug, smacking the shorter man on the chest. "Dumbass kid," he scoffed. "Idiot was dumb enough to take the dare. I tried to tell him, but he was so set on trying to be cool, right?"_

_Bug and the rest of the guys chuckled their agreement with various mumbles of the affirmative._

_ Mia stormed up to JJ. Her arm lashed out, palm impacting with a sharp crack to his cheek, leaving a streak of blood on the man's skin. "Don't you dare make light of the situation, JJ McCoy! He's lucky he didn't die because the blood would be on your hands, no one else's."_

_ JJ bristled with rage and embarrassment. He advanced on Mia, who stood her ground, his hand raising. He was about to take a swing when he found his arm caught in an iron grip. He turned his head to find a hazel gaze full of steel leveled in his direction._

_Sloane's voice lowered dangerously. "Don't even think about it, Junior."_

_JJ struggled against the iron grip. "Get off me, GI Jane."_

_ Sloane threw his arm down, shoving the man towards his friends. "Cool off before you do something stupid."_

_ Sloane glared after JJ as he sauntered off, casting a dirty glance back to her. She turned around and chased after Mia. It took her a bit to find the baker, but when she did, it was in Sweet Rose. Mia was in the back room, hovered over the sink._

_ "Hey! What was that?"_

_ Mia's shoulders heaved as she took deep breaths to calm herself, methodically washing her hands. "I'm sorry. I lost myself for a second. I don't usually lose my temper like that."_

_ "Uh, more like I don't think any of us were aware you even _had_ a temper. You've never shown that much emotion, like, ever. And don't even get me started on the freakin' Doogie Howser you pulled out there!"_

_ Sloane approached tentatively, not wanting to spook the other woman. "Why am I getting the feeling that wasn't the first time you've done something like that?_

_ Because it wasn't," Mia answered. "I'm trained for that sort of thing."_

_ "What, like you're an EMT?"_

_ Mia shook her head. "No, more like a trauma surgeon."_

_ "Trauma surgeon," Sloane repeated dumbly. "Like a doctor?"_

_ "Yes, exactly. Dr. Mia St. Claire, if you want to be formal." Mia finally turned around to face Sloane "I wasn't lying when I told you being a baker wasn't even close to my career aspirations. I was a child prodigy, almost like a Doogie Howser, if you would believe it."_

"_I really don't," Sloane quipped. She was having a hard time recognizing this woman in front of her, a woman calming cleaning blood-stained hands after working on an injured man with the bare essentials. _

_Mia crossed her arms, leaning against the back counter. "I went through high school and my undergraduate studies quickly and graduated med school very young, and I was the hotshot intern who turned into the trauma surgeon at one of the biggest hospitals in the United States. I was like God, pulling people from the threshold of death. The maverick of surgery."_

_ Sloane nodded slowly, realization clear in the tone of her voice. "It all makes sense. That's why nothing fazes you. I threw a punch at your face, and you leaned back like it was nothing!"_

_ Mia shrugged. "You tend to be pretty adept at dealing with crazy stuff in the ER. I've dodged more than my fair share of flailing limbs."_

_ "So what happened?" Sloane ventured. "Big time trauma surgeon is a long way from small-town baker."_

_ Mia snorted. "I was a selfish idiot. I neglected the only good thing in my life."_

_ The realization hit Sloane solidly. "Rose," she murmured. "You're talking about Rose."_

_ Mia nodded. Her eyes misted over as she was taken to a faraway time, in a place a long ways away from where they currently were. "God, she was…like a light from heaven, you know? She was the freest spirit, the most giving, loving soul; life was just the greatest adventure to her. I have no idea why she decided to pursue me. I was the complete opposite: structured, methodical. Everything had to be in its place and with its purpose. I don't believe in love at first sight, but…" Mia shook her head. "That was the closest I have ever come."_

_ "What happened?"_

_ "She was mugged, beaten, and left for dead by a couple assholes high off crack and looking for money to supply their next fix." Mia closed her eyes, wishing to stave away the memories, but they busted through the wall she had constructed to keep them at bay. "They brought her into my ER. It was the closest hospital; I was the doctor on call, no one else was able to respond. I had to operate on her. I…" Mia's breath hitched. "I couldn't…I…"_

_ "That's not your fault," Sloane reached out, laying a hand on Mia's shoulder. "You did everything you could."_

_ Mia wrenched herself away, whirling on the Marine, eyes wild. "No!" she spat. "If I had done everything I could, I wouldn't have taken that extra shift. She wanted to go to a play, I blew her off for work."_

"_You couldn't have known…"_

_Mia finally broke, her posture stiffening, shoulders swelling with indignation. "Yeah, well, then I should have been with her!" Mia screamed. "That way, I would have died right along with her. She wouldn't have to be alone. She deserved better." Mia shrank back, shoulders drooping, eyes welling with tears and emotions she had tempered down. "She deserved better than me." _

_ "Don't say that," Sloane implored, drawing Mia in her arms. "You just got lost."_

_ "No," Mia sobbed, fighting against Sloane's hold, her fists battering against Sloane's chest. "I knew exactly what I was doing. I took her for granted. I lost her."_

_ "Mia…"_

_Mia continued as though Sloane hadn't spoken, shoving against the Marine. "I still have nightmares. She's screaming for me to help her, to be there, but every single time, I'm too late. I'm always too late."_

_ Mia slumped against Sloane, the fight and energy sapped. Sloane caught her just in time. The little body trembled, completely bereft. Sloane didn't think; she sunk down, lifting the tiny woman bodily and gathering her into her lap. Mia curled into Sloane, grasping onto the blonde's shirt as though it was a lifeline. In many ways, it was. The Marine merely wrapped her arms around the smaller woman, rocking them gently back and forth. _

* * *

><p>"CUT!" Chris surged out of his seat, fist pumping triumphantly. "That's what I'm talking about! Wonderful job, Rachel. That was perfect."<p>

He watched the playback, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, print that!"

Rachel took a deep breath. She stayed in Quinn's arms for a moment, simply gathering herself. Quinn seemed to be on the same wavelength as the blonde didn't move, actually drawing her closer and resting her chin on Rachel's head. Rachel sighed and uncurled herself from Quinn's arms. She looked to her costar. Quinn hitched a head to Chris. Rachel's eyes widened, the plea evident in the dark depths. Quinn rolled her eyes, hitching her head more insistently. Rachel pouted, hands on her hips as she stomped a foot. Quinn's eyes narrowed. Rachel huffed, turning towards Chris. She took a breath to compose herself before bravely making her way to the director.

"Chris?" Rachel bit her lip as steady gray eyes swung her way. "I'm sorry about earlier."

The young man quirked a wry smile, gray eyes shining with amusement behind his glasses. "Hey, don't worry. We all have our moments."

Rachel relaxed. She bit her lip. "Still. You took a chance on me, and this is how I repay you."

Chris shook his head. "Believe it or not, that was merely a blip on my radar of temperamental actors. Barely registered."

"I'm appalled," Rachel teased. "I take pride in doing things bigger and better than everyone else."

Chris laughed, reaching out to hug the little diva. "Rachel, I had a feeling when I first saw you that you were going to do huge, great things. I should have known that wasn't limited to on-camera." He sobered, looking to his little starlet.

"But director to star?"

Rachel cocked her head, waiting for him to continue.

"There's a common denominator in this whole thing." Chris cast a meaningful glance to where Rachel's boyfriend was schmoozing with some bigwig or other. "Maybe it might be a shrewd career move to excise the cancerous tumor before it really kills you."

Rachel nodded, taking his words into account. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, and she turned back to the set. Her eyes found a pair of hazel ones, and she beamed, a thumbs up signaling everything was fine.

Quinn only smiled her small, mysterious smile.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn was leaning against her car, talking on her cell to Declan, making dinner plans for the week and discussing a couple of interview opportunities they had lined up. She ended the call, straightening when Rachel ascended the steps to her trailer, Brady in tow, and made her way to the parking lot. Rising on her tiptoes, the little diva threw her arms around her neck in a fierce hug. Quinn was thankful for her car behind her as she nearly fell back in surprise. She chuckled, tightening her grip around Rachel and righting themselves.

"Not that I'm complaining or anything, but what was that for?"

Rachel beamed. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Rachel sobered, looking a bit abashed. "Knocking sense into me."

Quinn nodded. "It was nothing. You just needed a bit of perspective."

"Still," Rachel insisted, fiddling with her phone cover. "I let…outside influences get to me, and that could have turned out really badly for me. So thank you."

"'No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,'" she offered.

Rachel smiled. "Eleanor Roosevelt."

"She was right, you know," Quinn commented. "You're the only person that can allow outside influences to matter. Don't let Brady, or me, or anyone make that choice for you."

Rachel nodded. She reached for Quinn's hand, squeezing it lightly. "You're a good friend, Quinn."

Quinn shrugged sheepishly. "I try."

Rachel dropped the hand, beaming up at her costar. "So the girls and I are having a couple of our friends over this weekend to watch Noah. We would love it if you joined us."

Quinn smirked. "You and I both know that hotel room isn't big enough for something like that." She slid her hand in her pocket. "Why don't you come over to mine? Declan and I were planning to watch anyway."

Rachel perked up. "That would be wonderful!"

"Yeah, we could grill, open up the hot tub, hang out on the beach…"

Rachel waved her hands. "Say no more. We'll be there."

Quinn grinned. "Alright then. I'll see you."

Once again, Rachel surged up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to Quinn's cheek. The blonde's breath hitched again in her throat. Rachel dropped back down.

"See you, Quinn!"

Quinn watched her for a long while as she skipped away, tugging on Brady's hand. She learned a lot from Rachel Berry today. The woman was remarkable, that was certain, but the 'diva' title she bore proudly was no embellishment. It was another surprising facet of Rachel's personality.

Quinn knew that the little starlet held herself to a high standard, but to the extent that she would storm off if the circumstances didn't suit her liking was a bit jarring to think about. She knew Rachel was driven, but to hear just how much – to the point that she had alienated her friends – was a bit alarming.

Rachel's diva side certainly wasn't done by halves either. It was brash and unrelenting and quite irritating, truth be told, but it was real. Quinn wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Maybe Santana was correct; maybe some concessions had to be made when working with Rachel Berry.

Was it worth it?

Aw, hell, who was she kidding?

Of course it was…

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel kept Quinn's words in her mind for the rest of the day, mulling over them. She started as Brady called her name.

"Rachel, are you alright? You seem to be off in your own world."

Rachel smiled, looking at her boyfriend. It had been awhile since they had gone out to dinner just them, and she admitted she had been a bit surprised when he suggested it, even telling her to dress up. The restaurant they were in was the crème of the Hollywood crop. The only annoyance being that they were right by a window, and she could already see the glare of paparazzi lenses.

"I'm fine, honey. Just thinking about today. I'm glad Quinn invited us over for Sunday. It would have been difficult to fit everyone in the hotel room."

"You seem to be getting close to Quinn Lucas," Brady remarked, digging into his rather large steak. "Good for you."

The way he said it gave her pause, and she looked up from her pasta. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, of course!" Brady waved off her question. "Just that associating with her will do wonders for your reputation in Hollywood."

Rachel looked scandalized at the insinuation. "I haven't befriended her because of what she can do for my career, Brady!" She took a sip from her wine to calm herself before she made a scene. "My talent speaks for itself."

Brady scoffed. "Oh, come on, Rachel. Then why else are you friends with St. James? You hated him in high school."

"I hated Jesse in high school because he was a vile, slimeball with an ego bigger than the impact _RENT_ had on its contemporary generation," Rachel corrected. "Once he got over himself and realized his man-diva shtick was entirely tired, he turned out to be a treasured and true friend. He still is a treasured and true friend."

Brady eyed her shrewdly. "So it isn't because he's won a Tony as both an actor and a playwright?"

"No," Rachel insisted. "Look, I'm not going to ignore the fact that I keep some pretty impressive company, but I've done just fine without anyone's help, Brady. I don't need people like Jesse or Quinn or even Noah to get my name out there."

"But it would help," Brady persisted.

"Of course it would help," Rachel nearly shrieked, completely exasperated. "But those are just me getting a foot in the door. It's up to me to push through and earn the role. I know I can do that with my talent alone."

"So what if this film is your last ever role," Brady posed. "What if someone told you that after this, you would never get another role again? Wouldn't you appeal to Quinn or Jesse to help you get something? Or even your mother with the contacts that she has?"

Rachel sighed. "Brady, if I were never to get another show or production, I would be happy. Because the truth is, I don't need a stage to sing or dance or act. That UPRIGHT Cabaret show reminded me of that. It's not the stage that makes me happy, it's the music, first and foremost. I love what I do, but as long as I have the music, I'll be fine."

Brady didn't look convinced. "Rachel, don't be ridiculous! Whatever happened to 'needing applause to live?'"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Brady, I said that when I was _fifteen_. I still had a long way to go in terms of maturity. Besides, I bet if I burst into song right now, the entire restaurant would stop and watch then give me all the applause I could ever ask for. I could be on a street corner with a guitar case, strumming and singing nonsensically, and I'll draw a crowd. Perhaps that's a bit conceited, but it's the truth. My point is, I don't need the stage for applause."

Brady only snorted, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all. It was obvious what his opinion was on the matter. Rachel surveyed him closely.

"Brady, why'd you become a performer?"

His brows drew together in confusion. "What kind of question is that?"

Rachel shrugged. "Color me curious."

"Because it was what I was good at," he answered. He shrugged. "I don't know…because I couldn't do anything else nearly as well?" He smirked. "I love the spotlight, I love the attention, I love being recognized and considered a celebrity. All of it is intoxicating. I could live off that forever."

Rachel nodded but didn't respond. His answer left her completely unsatisfied. She felt frustrated. It was far from the answer Quinn had given her. Brady's answer listed all of the superficial perks of being a performer. Quinn's delved deeper in depth. It was almost as though it revealed her very essence. Rachel took a mental step back, thinking about what Brady had just said.

Chris's words rang through her mind.

"Excise the cancerous tumor before it kills you," he had said.

It was a sentiment mirrored by Quinn.

"This didn't start until Brady came to visit you. I hate to cry wolf, but…" were her words.

Rachel sat back, taking a deeper drink of her wine. Brady was talking about some important person he had met and talked to while on set who had said he would be perfect for this or that role.

She remembered the first time she had met Brady. He was so handsome, so charming, so _great_ as Jimmy (even if he did have a bit of trouble with the string of A-flats in the bridge of "I Turned the Corner," but let's be real; _Gavin Creel_ even said that part was a bear). He had flashed her that rakish grin, and she had been gone. Now, nearly three years of knowing the man, the radiance that had been so big and overwhelming didn't seem so glittery or luminous as it did back then. The things that had drawn her to him, his ability, his flawless portrayal of her ideal romantic lead, the persona he depicted of Broadway's Heartthrob, all seemed to be so superficial. As though everything about him was almost…_fake_.

She was struck with a realization. Maybe it was time to take the rose-colored glasses off. She had been swept up in the excitement of her Broadway debut, overwhelmed with the fantasy of the perfect leading man, magnified tenfold in Brady. She wasn't a little girl anymore who waited for her Prince Charming to ride up on horseback. She wasn't even that teenager who fell for the star quarterback simply because he was the star quarterback and that's who cheerleaders were supposed to date. Fairytale romances were for Disney movies. The cheerleader and the quarterback were for _High School Musical _sequels. This was real life.

Rachel sighed, looking at her supposed prince and seeing him pointedly ask their waitress for separate checks.

Real life sucked.

* * *

><p><strong>Spanish translations, courtesy of Azuri-chan:<strong>

_Santo dios, no me paga lo suficiente para lidiar con esto:_ Holy God, she doesn't pay me enough to deal with this.

_¿A quien soborno para que lo saque por sus pequeñas y asquerosas bolas de aqui?_: Who do I have to bribe to get him out of here by his tiny disgusting balls?

_¡Puta madre! Se va y me deja lidiar con las consecuencias. Le voy a quitar lo diva al estilo de_ Lima Heights Adjacent: Motherfucker! She leaves and it's me who deals with the consequences. I'll take the diva outta her Lima Heights Adjacent style.

* * *

><p><em>Ah-ha! So Rachel is seeing cracks in the armor of her knight. Perhaps she's coming to some realizations? Oh, come on, you know Rachel! It's not that easy! I will say this, however, Brady is not much longer for this story. How much longer, you ask? Nuh-uh! That would be too easy. I will say this: his exit will be spectacular and satisfying to all who hate him.<em>

_Next chapter, things get a little steamy between Quinn and Rachel as they begin promoting the movie. And since they play lovers, they definitely have to get up-close-and-personal. And on a fluffier note, Quinn shows Rachel how a real significant other treats her loved one…_

_Thanks for reading, and, as always, feel free to let me know what you think here or on Twitter!_

_*ISP_


	8. Chapter 7

_Alright, everyone! After battling the real world and my muse running off to Chapters Eight, Nine, and Ten, I have conquered Chapter Seven! Thanks to everyone who has stayed patient and all the people reviewing, alerting, and favoriting. It's awesome that you guys are staying interested. Don't be afraid to leave a long review, too. Those are fun, and a couple can attest to the great discussions about the characters, plot, etc. I also tend to let things slip during those times, lol._

_Anyway, on to the chapter. It's kind of a Rachel-centered one as she navigates through another facet of the movie industry she certainly isn't familiar with: the promotional side. There is very limited Brady in this chapter, and rest assured, his exit looms. Along the way, she experiences some awakenings, which is the theme of this chapter. Awakening of what? Well…_

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 7<span>

_**William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio was pretty much like any high school…if any other high school was subjected to the authoritarian regime of a borderline-sadistic evil genius mind that used cunning, manipulation, and just a bit of blackmail to lead a squad cheerleaders to six (and counting) national cheerleading titles.**_

_**Sue Sylvester and her Cheerios were the undisputed dictators of the McKinley High social hierarchy, and the red, white, and black uniform of the regime struck fear into the hearts of all who attended. **_

_**Three girls marched down the halls of McKinley High School. The short skirts of the Cheerio uniform twirled around immaculately toned legs as hair swung from impeccably arranged ponytails. Out of all the Cheerios, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, and Brittany Pierce were Sue Sylvester's three best, her prized flyer, tumbler, and dancer. The proverbial Golden Geese to her flock of flawless champions. They ruled McKinley with fear (Santana), tempered by kindness (Rachel) and whimsy (Brittany).**_

_** Despite her social scene operating primarily as a cheerleader, Rachel still kept her dream of Broadway in mind – much to the chagrin of her jock and cheerleader constituents; and she certainly heard about it. When she wasn't being run into the ground during practices or tossed in the air as a a flyer, she still scrupulously studied music with her dream in mind. A noise piqued Rachel's meticulously trained ear, and she halted. "Do you hear that?"**_

_** Santana paused, scowling. They were on their way to practice, and in Coach Sylvester's words: "If you're not at least thirty minutes early, you are forever fated to be a failure in life, late and behind to everything that may present itself as an opportunity to your sad, sorry, tardy self." **_

"_**Hear what?"**_

_** Brittany cocked her head, straining to pick up whatever Rachel was. "You're not hearing voices, again, are you Ray?"**_

_** "No," Rachel answered. She reconsidered her point. "Well, yes. But not speaking voices. It's the flawless melodies of Steve Perry and his band, Journey." Rachel listened harder. "'Don't Stop Believing,' if I'm not mistaken. But those are not his vocals, nor the vocals of his replacement, Arnel Pineda…"**_

_** Rachel rotated, suddenly on a mission. She followed the melody to the auditorium. Not wanting to disturb whomever was singing, she took a detour and slid through the side doors that ascended to the balcony. The trio posted up on railing and peered down to the stage.**_

_**A group of kids were spread out across the stage, surrounded by the jazz band. Rachel could recognize Mercedes Jones, Tina Cohen-Chang, Kurt Hummel, and Artie Abrams. They were singing…harmonizing. Immediately, she picked up on a few things. The first of which was that Kurt was a rather flamboyant countertenor. Rachel had heard of that vocal range, having meticulously studied the options behind the voices of potential leading males, but she had never actually known a person with that particular vocal range. **_

_**She leaned against the railing, continuing to listen, and certain nuances became clear. If they were working for a wholeness and completion in their sound, they lacked a strong bass singer. However, the group had a powerful belter in Mercedes, a light, lilting counterpoint in Tina, and a promising baritone in Artie if he could develop his lower register. She cocked an eyebrow as they began to dance. They were sloppy and all over the place, but there was a lot of heart in the performance. **_

_**Rachel's world halted, however, as Finn Hudson appeared out of nowhere. She knew of the boy, the unfortunate captain and quarterback of an abysmal football team made just respectable by the brilliant talent of her best (male) friend and Jew Bro, Noah Puckerman. Finn stood head and shoulders above the rest of the group and was striding forward. She wondered what he was doing there when he opened his mouth and started to sing. If Rachel knew one thing, she knew potential. More specifically, leading man potential. His voice was difficult to pin down. He seemed to be a high baritone, perhaps a baritenor if his upper register went higher, and his voice had a raspy quality that was quite interesting. She considered the package in front of her. Tall, reasonably handsome, and that voice…she could see herself developing that voice. He wavered trying to sustain a note, but there was definite potential.**_

_**She leaned forward as though the gesture could bring her physically closer to Finn Hudson, the balcony railing providing quite the intimidating barrier. Santana's eyes widened, and she grabbed the back of Rachel's uniform before the little diva tumbled over the edge.**_

_**The jolt seemed to yank Rachel back to the present, and she turned back to her two best friends, the plea evident in her eyes.**_

_**Santana looked at her Tiny, eyes widening in realization. Her gaze flicked from the stage to Rachel, back and forth. **_

"_**No," Santana stated definitively. "No, no, no, no, and **_**oh hell no**_**."**_

_** Rachel thrust her fists on her hips. "San, come on!"**_

_** "Crazy, do you realize what this is going to do to us?" Santana returned. "The glee geeks are at the bottom of the universe, like basement bottom, like sucked-into-a-black-hole bottom."**_

"_**We have more than enough popularity to even things out," Rachel argued.**_

"_**I don't want to 'even things out,'" Santana growled. "I want to be so far at the top, they'll need a telescope to look up my skirt."**_

"_**Please, San!"**_

_**Brittany twirled the ends of her ponytail, gazing down at the glee club thoughtfully. "You know, San, it looks super fun." **_

_**Rachel brightened as Santana facepalmed. Now that Brittany wanted to join, there was absolutely no saying no.**_

_** "What are you guys looking at?"**_

_** Rachel and Santana both jumped with a squeak. Brittany merely turned, smiling at the tall boy behind them.**_

_** "Hi, Puck!"**_

_** The tall linebacker and wide receiver, star of McKinley's football team, grinned his greeting and slung an arm around Brittany's shoulders. "Hey, Ducky."**_

_** Rachel stomped her foot, smacking Puck on the arm. "Sweet Barbra, Noah! You know better than to sneak up on us!"**_

_** Puck chuckled. "Cool your tits, Starlet. I called your name like a billion times, but you were in freakin' Missile Lock Mode." He adopted a computer-like voice. "Stay on target…Stay on target. Fire!"**_

_** Rachel gestured down to the stage where the group of five was bounding about the stage. "Did you know about this?"**_

_** Puck nodded, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, Hudson was talking about how Schuester had him for something and it was either join or being suspended."**_

_** "What could Mr. Schuester possibly have on Finnocent?" Santana asked. "We call him that for a reason."**_

_** Puck shrugged. "Dunno. Whatever it was spooked the Jolly Green Giant pretty bad though."**_

_** "More importantly, what is **_**Mr. Schuester**_** doing with the glee club?" Rachel asked. "I thought that was Mr. Ryerson's job."**_

_** "Dude got fired. Apparently someone saw him feeling up Hank Saunders or something and turned him in." Puck shook his head. "Everyone knew the guy was creepy anyway." **_

_** Rachel turned back to the stage as Finn hit a high note, wavering only slightly. A gleam sparked in her eye, growing infinitely as the little diva considered the possibilities.**_

_** "Oh, no." Puck's eyes narrowed at his Jew Babe. "I know that look."**_

_** "Look?" Santana's brows drew together. "What look?"**_

_** "That look." He pointed to Rachel. "That's the look I saw when Rabbi Schram said he was looking for a youth cantor to lead the Kol Nidre during Yom Kippur. That's her Spotlight Stare." He smirked. "So you guys want to join glee club?"**_

_** "Correction," Santana pointed out. "**_**Tiny**_** wants to join glee club."**_

_** "Why not?" Puck posed. "Might be cool. We all like singing, and everyone knows I shred a killer guitar."**_

_** Santana shot him a look. "Puckerman, you must be taking too many of Hudson's awful throws to the helmet because I did not just hear you say joining glee club would be cool."**_

_** Puck scoffed. "Please, Satan. Between the four of us, our badassness is off the charts. No one questions if we think something is cool."**_

_** Santana didn't bother looking at Rachel, she knew her Tiny's views on the situation. Brittany's big blue eyes were her downfall…naturally. One owlish blink, and Santana was done. She swore, throwing her arms in the air, storming away to practice. **_

"**Dios mio**_**, I hate you all!"**_

_** Brittany bounced after her, giggling with delight. Puck nodded to his Jew Babe, pounding fists before making his way to the locker room for his own practice.**_

_** Rachel turned her eyes back to the stage where Mr. Schuester was applauding, making his way over to the group. She looked down at the tall, dark-haired boy in the center of the stage and felt flutters in her stomach. She could see herself performing with him, sharing the spotlight with him. In that moment, Rachel knew something had stirred within her, and she was determined to make Finn Hudson her male lead.**_

Rachel Berry could name a few times in her relatively short life where she experienced epiphanies of some sort…so to speak. They were moments in her life where a certain amount of clarity ensued. The first time her fathers sat her down for a movie night and _Funny Girl_ was the chosen film, she came to the realization that Barbra Streisand was a deity to be worshipped and an appropriate model to idealize for her future aspirations. The first time she had heard the soundtrack to _The Little Mermaid_ and the wistful yet powerful belting in "Part of Your World", she knew that she wanted to be a performer and have her voice elicit those sorts of complex emotions. The first time she experienced a standing ovation in her dance class, she knew she adored the spotlight. The first time her fathers had taken her to a Broadway show (_Beauty and the Beast_, naturally), she knew the Great White Way was her destiny, and the first time she heard Finn Hudson sing, she knew that she wanted a showmance to solidify her star status.

But fate would deal her a completely unexpected epiphany that would forever alter the course of her life – okay, so maybe it wasn't _that_ dramatic; but it was still a pretty big deal – and that epiphany would involve one Quinn Lucas.

The full realization wouldn't come for a while. But its roots began one fateful day on the set of _Duty and Honor_…

xxx-xxx-xxx

It was a sobering thought to believe that filming for _Duty and Honor _was almost over, but it was the truth. Efficiency had sped up production quicker than was scheduled, and all that remained was a select few scenes. By this time, it was a general consensus amongst the cast and crew that where Rachel was, Quinn could also be found and vice versa. The two leads were rarely without one another, and it had become pretty uncommon to see them actually on their own. Therefore, it often made finding one or the other rather easy.

At the moment, Chris was counting on that fact as he wove his way through the organized chaos that was his film set. It took him a bit, but he eventually spotted Rachel and Quinn perched on their respective chairs off-set, hands locked together by the fingers, and engaged in the thumb war to end all thumb wars.

Chris looked to the two, slightly amused at their antics. "Hey, ladies?"

"Just a second, Chris," Quinn grunted. She had her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she darted her thumb to the left. "Rachel's about to be Berry Juice in about two seconds."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Guys, but can you call a cease fire for a second?"

"Chris, food is on the line," Rachel protested, teeth sunk into her bottom lip. "Not to mention pride, ego, and bragging rights. I refuse to lose in something as trite as a thumb war."

Chris merely shook his head, watching two grown and intelligent women battle it out in a thumb war. Sadly enough, this wasn't the first time some weird, childish thing had taken precedence over him when it came to Quinn and Rachel. He once had to wait twenty minutes for Quinn to finally beat Rachel in a game of Hot Hands.

"Whoop!" Quinn bounced in her seat, arms extended in the air, waving back and forth as she celebrated her victory. "Total domination, Berry! You owe me dinner!"

Rachel pouted, crossing her arms. "You're lucky I'm sitting and Chris needs to speak with us, otherwise this would be the perfect time to execute a Diva Storm Out."

Quinn smirked. "How's that trademark coming along?"

Rachel merely stuck her tongue out.

Again, Chris shook his head.

Rachel smiled at their director. "What's up Chris?"

"Apparently everything," he quipped. "It's going to get crazy around here for the next few days. This is coming straight from the studio execs down to all of us. The studio wants to get a head start on the press junket for the movie, so expect cameras from different entertainment shows milling around. We'll be doing a few behind the scenes things, interviews and whatnot, and we'll be scheduling a photo shoot for the promotional stills we'll be releasing. I'll try to forward the email I got to you guys. It pretty much has everything listed on a schedule." He looked to his stars. "You guys alright with that?"

A bit overwhelmed, Rachel simply nodded her head in the affirmative. Quinn mirrored the gesture. Chris ran a hand through his hair.

"Good." He snapped his fingers, remembering one more thing. "Oh, and the studio wants you guys to appear in public together more. Ben said something about promoting a good relationship between you guys." He looked pointedly between the pair. "I trust that won't be a problem?"

"No, Chris," the two chorused, clearly mocking him with wide, impish grins.

Chris sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "It's like I'm running a daycare."

"Aw, don't lie to yourself, Christian," Rachel scolded playfully. "You love us."

"Sadly, I do," Chris admitted. He plucked his glasses from his face and rubbing his eyes. "God, this is the hardest part of filming a movie. There's a reason I'm _behind_ the camera," he muttered as he walked back to set.

Rachel and Quinn watched him go, amused smiles on their faces. Just then, the full weight of Chris's message bore down on Rachel, and her eyes widened at the implication. Interviews, photo shoots, public appearances…? Dear Patti LuPone…this was clearly a bit beyond her normal scope of publicity.

Seeing the bewildered expression, Quinn frowned. "You okay?"

Rachel still had a look torn between terror and excitement adorning her face. "Just trying to wrap my head around all of this."

Quinn's head bobbed to the right. "Broadway doesn't do press junkets?"

Rachel shook her head. "Not really." She chuckled. "Sometimes the most publicity a show gets is when Tony season comes around or when a particularly big name is attached to the project. That's when the media truly starts showing interest."

Quinn chuckled. "Welcome to the biggest circus of your career then, Rachel."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn was certainly right about one thing: this was the biggest circus of her career. It seemed like every day there was a different camera crew lurking around for the latest segment for one of those entertainment shows like _ET_ or _Access Hollywood _or the studio's cameras shooting things for the behind the scenes featurettes for the DVD. She'd been sat down, both with Quinn and by herself – and asked the basically the same questions over and over.

* * *

><p>"<em>So tell us about yourself."<em>

* * *

><p>"Well, I was born and raised in Lima, Ohio. I moved to New York after high school to attend NYU's Tisch School of the Arts. About two weeks before I was about to graduate, I was cast in the Broadway revival for <em>Thoroughly Modern Millie<em>. I had just finished a run in the musical _Chicago_ before I was cast as Mia."

* * *

><p>"<em>You play Mia St. Claire, the love interest for Sloane. What can you tell us about Mia?"<em>

* * *

><p>"Mia is a woman new to Greensborough who just kind of showed up one day and set up a bakery in town. She's kind of mysterious in that no one really knows much about her and she keeps to herself. She's a woman with a whole different background than everyone else who has been born and raised in Greensborough, and Sloane finds that intriguing."<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>What's it like being on the set of your first film?"<em>

* * *

><p>"It's such a rush! Quite a different pace from Broadway, but I'm having the time of my life."<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>Is it difficult playing a gay character, knowing that this movie and its subject matter is quite controversial?"<em>

* * *

><p>"No, not at all. I was raised by two gay men in a small, conservative Midwest town so this story rings very true to me. I know just as well as anyone the struggles to be accepted amidst a world that is still trying to hold onto 'traditional' values. This isn't just Sloane and Mia's story, it's my story and my father's story. The message here is just as important as the subject matter."<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>How is it working with the notoriously elusive Quinn Lucas?"<em>

* * *

><p>"I'm starting to think her reputation is grossly exaggerated because she is the sweetest person. She and I have become such great friends during filming."<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>So what's next for you after this?"<em>

* * *

><p>"I don't know. And I'm excited about that."<p>

xxx-xxx-xxx

It was an interesting process, at times tedious and very repetitive, but Rachel threw herself into it. This was everything she ever dreamed about as a little girl. She mustered up every little bit of excess wattage to charge up her Gold Star Smile, shamelessly pouring on the charm and charisma. She gave tours of her trailer and imparted little anecdotes about the gold star theme and how it was a metaphor. As a camera from _Access Hollywood_ followed Quinn around, she succumbed to an overwhelmingly mischievous urge to jump on the blonde's back. Quinn had yelped in surprise, pitching forward before righting herself. Rachel found herself squealing in delight as Quinn grabbed onto her legs, twirling them around in a circle before introducing her to the camera. She waved a bit dizzily then remained perched on Quinn's back as the blonde continued her segment.

She learned rather quickly that it was dangerous having her and Quinn do joint interviews. They tended to go off on random tangents, chattering on about random snippets before having the interviewer pull them desperately back to the subject at hand.

* * *

><p><em>"So have there been any interesting mishaps on set? Takes gone wrong? Stunts gone funny?"<em>

* * *

><p>Rachel perked up after thinking for a moment. "Oh, I have one!"<p>

Quinn's brow furrowed as she turned slightly to her costar. "You do?"

Rachel nodded. "Yes! That time you nearly punched me in the face that one take in front of Sweet Rose." Rachel returned her attention to the interviewer. "Basically, the setup was that Mia startles Sloane in front of the bakery. Sloane is still on guard and immediately reacts by throwing out a punch which Mia dodges by leaning back." She glared at Quinn. "But one take, Quinn was so nervous because she didn't want to hit me that she jumped the timing, swung too early, and nearly did hit me."

"Oh, yeah! I remember that." Quinn's face relaxed into a goofy grin as she chuckled to herself. "I thought that was hilarious."

"I'm well aware," Rachel deadpanned. "You couldn't stop laughing for like twenty minutes."

"That's because you and immediately squealed and started checking your nose."

Rachel rolled her eyes, gesturing to said feature. "Don't know if you've noticed but it is a rather big target. That was not the first time it has gotten in the way of flailing limbs."

Quinn nodded her agreement with a smirk. "I'll bet."

The chastisement came quick. "Quinn!"

"What? You opened the door!"

Rachel thrust her fists onto her hips. "I'll have you know, Quinn Lucas, that I am proud of my nose. It is another thing that my personal idol, Ms. Barbra Streisand and I have in common and that I have chosen to emulate. They told Barbra to get a nose job and she refused as well."

Quinn's eyes twinkled mischievously. "So if Barbra had gotten a nose job you would too?"

* * *

><p>"<em>Uh, ladies?"<em>

* * *

><p>Rachel thought about that for a moment, never having considered the idea. "…Maybe?" she hedged meekly.<p>

Quinn nearly fell off her chair from laughing so hard.

"Shut up! It would have meant she was willing to do everything to achieve the superstardom she was undoubtedly destined for!" Rachel returned. "Just because you have a perfect nose…"

Quinn stifled a snort. "Hey, it's only perfect because I had surgery on it."

Rachel looked aghast. "No!"

"It's common knowledge, Rach," Quinn defended. "I broke my nose the summer before my sophomore year of high school and had to have it corrected otherwise I'd sound like someone was permanently plugging my nose."

"_Ladies?"_

Rachel leaned into her costar, poking various parts of Quinn's nose, trying to figure out where the surgery took place. Quinn's eyes crossed as she followed the finger, trying to figure out what the little diva was doing.

"Rachel, what are you doing?"

"Trying to feel if there's a difference in the feel of your nose since it's had work done."

"You won't," Quinn retorted with a laugh, swatting at Rachel's inquisitive hand. "Quit poking me!"

* * *

><p>"<em>Ladies…?"<em>

* * *

><p>Both stars turned back to their interviewer. Rachel's finger was still extended mid-poke. Quinn scratched the back of her neck. "Sorry! What was the question?"<p>

No doubt about it, Rachel felt like she was made for this sort of thing. These people weren't her peers in high school, the ones who ridiculed her and scoffed at her and told her most people and those who did certainly didn't find themselves in the spotlight. No, the people asking the questions and taking the tours were people who appreciated her talent, who lauded her for it. This was certainly much different than a YouTube video that garnered a good amount of hits and some anonymous praise. It was all a blur of lights, cameras, and, well…action. Rachel definitely learned one thing from this experience: she could definitely get used to this…

xxx-xxx-xxx

After the whirl of cameras and interviews and television segments – there was one where she showed off her actual baking skills – the schedule actually settled down a bit. There was one part of the promotional process she actually was familiar with. She remembered taking the photos for _Millie_, knowing that they would be immortalized forever in the Playbill, on billboards, and whatever promotional items followed. People would associate her name with the _Millie_ revival. It was quite daunting.

Rachel felt that same amount of excitement as her driver dropped her, Brittany, and Santana at their location where they would be holding the photo shoot for _Duty and Honor_. It was an open field to mimic the Gerard backyard, and a barn where they could do the shots with just a plain backdrop.

Rachel cocked an eyebrow as Quinn came out dressed partially in the Marine Corps Combat Utility Uniform. So far, she had only really seen Quinn costumed in civilian clothes – they had shot most of the military-relevant scenes before she had replaced Jennifer Wolfe. Her torso was covered in the olive green uniform undershirt, her long legs in the utility trousers, the heavy tan boots at her feet, and a pair of dog tags hung from her neck. The tight t-shirt highlighted Quinn's defined arms and toned torso. Rachel had no idea camouflage could look so attractive and voiced her approval.

"That's hot."

Quinn blushed, looking down at herself, fiddling with the strap of the tactical watch at her wrist. "I don't look ridiculous?"

Rachel shook her head rapidly. "No way."

Quinn shot her an adorably bashful smile, heading back to the photographer. Rachel's eyes widened. Her view from the back was just as impressive. Even with the barrier of the t-shirt, she could clearly see the muscled outline of Quinn's shoulder blades and as Quinn walked away, Rachel's eyes seemed to zero in on the muscled backside swaying from side to side.

Rachel gulped. For some reason, her throat was inexplicably dry.

xxx-xxx-xxx

It was all organized chaos, just like on set. People milled around, doing a billion things at once as the cameras captured the essence of _Duty and Honor_ to preview for the world. Their photographer started off with some individual shots: Quinn in various poses before a background of the American flag, Rachel in similar arrangements but with the background of the bakery and a single rose in her hand. The photographer quickly breezed through their other castmates, placing them all in strategic groups, such as Quinn with Gordon Wade and Ellen Beauchamp, who played Bill and Betty Gerard respectively, and the actors who played Sloane's older sister, Laura Gerard Jefferson, and younger brother, Matthew Gerard, Kelsey Frasier and Seth Naughton.

Finally, they cleared out most of the excess crew for the photos that would make the bulk of the promotional material: the photos featuring Quinn and Rachel.

It started off simple enough. Quinn and Rachel were side by side, Quinn seated in the background, Rachel standing in the foreground. Then, the poses were starting to get more intimate, bringing the actresses closer together.

* * *

><p><em>Quinn sits on the worn bench, a stone background behind her. Her forearms braced on her thighs, her hands folded in the gap between her legs, she stares intently at the camera, stone-faced and betraying nothing. Rachel is draped over her back, one arm around Quinn's neck, hugging the blonde from behind. The other dangles loosely, tangled in the chain of Quinn's dog tags. Shadows ensconce the seated blonde, but dim lighting subtly illuminates Rachel.<em>

* * *

><p>Pressed against Quinn, Rachel couldn't help but feel like all five of her senses were on overload. Quinn's shampoo filtered through her nostrils, sweet and herbal, a perfect complement to her perfume. Rachel could feel the strength in the corded muscles beneath her breasts, the strong slope of the back and shoulders. Rachel rose and fell in time with Quinn's breaths, slow and steady.<p>

Her cheek pressed against Quinn's slightly unruly hair, Rachel could feel the soft corn silk strands tickle her skin. Idly, she wondered what Quinn's hair would feel like if she ever ran her fingers through the luscious locks. As her face kept the expression needed for the shot, her mind kept considering the possibility. A tiny corner questioned that thought, only to be battered down again.

* * *

><p><em>Rachel stands her front to Quinn's, enfolded in the blonde's arms. Rachel's arms are around Quinn's waist, Quinn's around Rachel's shoulders. The blonde's face is tilted upward, staring off into the distance. Rachel's face is half-hidden, buried in the crook of Quinn's neck.<em>

* * *

><p>Rachel had to try really hard not to shiver. Quinn's arms were strong, solid, and the skin surrounding her body felt so soft. She couldn't help but compare Quinn's embrace to Brady's. Brady's arms were often overwhelming to her, so large and heavy. Quinn held her gently, yet securely.<p>

"Rachel turn your face into Quinn's neck more, then turn your eyes towards the camera. Just your eyes…yeah, that's perfect."

This time, Rachel stifled a groan, finding her nose buried into the soft skin of Quinn's neck. A familiar scent wafted through her nostrils, the fragrance seemingly concentrated right where her nose met Quinn's neck. Quinn always smelled so good, sweet and fruity, and the scent lingered in the air.

"Quinn, move your hand just a tad lower…yes, right there."

Rachel drew in a sharp breath as Quinn's palm moved at the direction. It slid lower, traversing the expanse to lie against the curve of Rachel's lower back, resting gently, but solidly. There was a palpable heat emanating from the point of contact, and it spiraled out to encompass the rest of her body.

Quinn frowned as she glanced down at the suddenly tense woman in her arms. "You alright?"

Rachel smiled, but it was a weak one. "F-fine," she stammered out.

The look in Quinn's eyes belied the nod of her head.

Rachel exhaled shakily. _Get it together, Berry_, she chastised herself. _You're a professional. Act like one_.

* * *

><p><em>Rachel stands in front of Quinn, one arm folded over the other. The taller blonde hovers behind her, hands braced on her upper biceps, her head tilted down and leaning against Rachel's temple.<em>

* * *

><p>It had to be the breeze, Rachel decided firmly. Because there was no way simple touches should elicit this many sensations. It was intimate and passionate. As Quinn's hands lay against her arms, Rachel could feel their warmth, feel their solid weight. It was all so tangible, so sensual.<p>

Yet it was nothing more than a touch.

* * *

><p><em>Quinn's back is to the camera, face turned to the side, showing her profile. The strong lines of her torso are highlighted in a racer-back tank top. Rachel is in front of her, facing the camera over Quinn's shoulder. Her hand is snaked under Quinn's arm that is braced on the blonde's hip. Rachel's fingers splay against the fake scar traversing the planes of Quinn's shoulder blade.<em>

* * *

><p>Rachel retreated back as the photographer called for a break. For the first time in awhile, she was grateful that her short stature brought her below Quinn's line of vision. She wasn't sure she could meet the blonde's eyes. The thoughts kept whirling through her brain, warring with the sensations that were threatening to overtake logic and reason in her mind.<p>

Yep, Rachel decided, this was certainly something different.

xxx-xxx-xxx

"You're having fun," Quinn noted as they sat side by side in the shade during the break.

Rachel laughed, looking up from her phone. "This is actually pretty familiar," she answered. "We did stuff like this all the time for the promotional posters." She smirked, looking down at her light blue jean skirt, and the loose, silk, striped scoopneck top with three-quarter sleeves, held into place with a button tab. Her light-colored clothing provided the perfect contrast to Quinn's dark jeans and black top and boots.

"Although I have to say that my wardrobe looks infinitely better than a flapper dress and a wig, though."

Quinn chuckled, sliding off her seat as the photographer called them back. "I would prefer that, yes."

They moved out to the secondary location of the shoot. It was a wide open field, not dissimilar to the set of the Gerard backyard, even right down to a punching back hanging from the sturdy branch of a tree.

* * *

><p><em>Quinn and Rachel sit on the lowered tailgate of an old, red Ford pick-up truck. Their positions are mirror images. Both sit legs swinging, arms braced at their sides, heads are turned towards one another.<em>

* * *

><p>It was kind of funny for them to be in that pose. They spent most of the time trying to make each other laugh, breaking the rather serious tone of the photo. As they took a break for the photographer to reset, Rachel poked her costar, noting the contemplative look on Quinn's face.<p>

"What?"

Quinn shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. "Nothing."

Rachel's gaze narrowed as she eyed her costar. "I don't have anything on my face, do I?"

Quinn laughed. "Even if you do, they can airbrush it out."

Rachel looked scandalized. "That's like saying I'm perfectly capable of singing yet I'm still going to lip synch!"

Quinn didn't respond, shaking her head amusedly at Rachel's reasoning. "Sing something," she entreated instead.

"Like?"

Quinn shrugged. "Anything. I just like hearing you sing."

Rachel smiled softly. "I remember. It makes you happy."

Quinn nodded. She thought about that point for a moment. "Yeah, but you could probably make me cry if you want me to also."

"Well we wouldn't want that," Rachel teased. "What does the lady request?"

"Something mellow like the mood."

_Turn down the lights;  
><em>_Turn down the bed.  
><em>_Turn down these voices  
><em>_Inside my head._

_Lay down with me;  
><em>_Tell me no lies.  
><em>_Just hold me close;  
><em>_Don't patronize._

_Don't patronize me._

_'Cuz I can't make you love me  
><em>_If you don't.  
><em>_You can't make your heart feel  
><em>_Something it won't._

_Here in the dark  
><em>_In these final hours,  
><em>_I will lay down my heart  
><em>_And I'll feel the power;  
><em>_But you won't.  
><em>_No, you won't.  
><em>_'Cuz I can't make you love me  
><em>_If you don't._

It was nice, Rachel decided. She was singing without fear of some sort of comment or response. Quinn was simply listening, a small smile playing on the corners of her mouth. Brady couldn't hear anything classified as music without critiquing it.

Quinn hummed along, swaying slightly to the beat. That soft glint was in her eyes again. As the final notes lingered, Rachel dropped her gaze. There was something there. Something she wasn't sure she wanted to acknowledge.

* * *

><p><em>Quinn leans back against the trunk of a tree, Rachel's head is pillowed on her thigh. The brunette faces the camera, a serene expression on her face. Quinn's gaze is turned slightly off center, a bit more weighted in its appearance. One arm is braced on an upraised knee. The opposite hand is tangled with Rachel's and hugged to the smaller woman's chest.<em>

* * *

><p>"Awesome, ladies," the photographer enthused. "Rachel, turn up towards Quinn. Quinn, duck your head just a bit…yeah, perfect. Now tilt slightly…good!"<p>

Both obliged at the direction. Rachel was met with shining hazel eyes that beamed fondly down at her. Quinn reached out, tucking a strand of Rachel's hair behind her ear. A small smile curved full lips, filled with tender affection.

In that moment, Rachel's mind flashed to a place she wasn't sure was a figment of her unconscious desires or a premonition to the future.

**_They were cocooned in a large bed, supremely comfortable and surrounded by mussed sheets and blankets, pillows thrown haphazardly in all directions. Quinn leaned up against the headboard, her shoulders bare with a thin sheet tucked against her chest. Her head lay on Quinn's thigh, the strands of her hair curling wildly across the sheets. Quinn's fingers lazily strolled up and down her bare arm that was holding another sheet to her. She supposed it was an attempt to preserve her modesty but she had a feeling in this scene that they passed modesty a long time back. Each feather-light caress sent a wave of shivers rollicking up and down her spine. She looked up. Quinn's hair was in its Lion Mane, adorably tousled and wild, an obvious sign that the blonde had just awaken. Quinn reached out, her fingers ghosting over the curve of a cheekbone and tickling over Rachel's jaw line, a whisper of a touch, so gentle and caring. Rachel's eyes fluttered close, and an idle thought flit through her hazy mind._**

**_She wouldn't mind staying like this forever._**

"Alright, ladies, that's a wrap! I think we're good."

Rachel was yanked from her daydream, and she sat up sharply, nearly colliding with Quinn's head still bent down. The blonde woman jerked back to avoid an unfortunate accident, nearly upending Rachel with the movement.

"Whoa! Easy there, Turbo," Quinn chided gently. "I've already broken my nose once, don't want to relive that."

Rachel's face was flushed, her pulse thrumming erratically. She took a couple deep breaths to calm herself. She must have had quite the expression on her face because Quinn's brow furrowed in concern.

"Rachel, are you okay?"

Rachel barely heard the question, merely clambering to her feet, avoiding Quinn's gaze. "I've…I've gotta go."

She hurried away, barely looking back, leaving a bewildered blonde in her wake.

xxx-xxx-xxx

The next few days, the set of _Duty and Honor_ experienced an interesting atmosphere. Rachel was on her game, acting up a storm, but it was clear that something was on her mind. She was preoccupied, lost in her thoughts, and uncharacteristically quiet. She was still smiling, polite, happy Rachel, but it seemed almost…forced. Rather than mingling with the rest of the cast as she normally did, she would retreat to her trailer. Even more apparent, she was avoiding Quinn. It was subtle, but it was there. No one was quite sure exactly what was the reasoning behind this sudden withdrawal.

Finally fed up of the phantom that had once been lively Rachel Berry, Quinn cornered her on set. She snuck up to the little diva, planting herself right Rachel. "You're avoiding me."

Rachel jumped with a squeak and whirled sharply. She recoiled, immediately on the defensive. "I am not."

Quinn cocked an eyebrow, clearly not believing her in the slightest. "For a killer actor, you're a shitty liar."

Rachel briefly thought about refuting that statement. She then rethought that notion. If Quinn could see her so clearly, it wasn't right of her to so blatantly disregard the statement. For some reason, she couldn't bear to outwardly lie to her costar. Rachel dropped her eyes to the ground shamefully. "I am…"

Quinn didn't react. That was more frightening than a negative reaction. Rachel's heart dropped to her feet. The veil was back over Quinn's eyes. The blonde's tone was even, betraying nothing, as she addressed Rachel. "Why?"

"I'm…working through some things," Rachel answered. She sighed, her expression and tone completely frustrating. "They're kind of confusing to me, and I needed some time to myself to sort them out." Rachel ran a hand through her hair. "I'm kind of avoiding everyone," she admitted sheepishly.

Quinn was very well aware of that notion and didn't press further. Her gaze softened, and she offered out a smile. "Anything I can do to help?"

"You're sweet, but no." Rachel was touched at the blonde's concern. She reached out, taking Quinn's hand and squeezing lightly. She briefly flirted with the idea of kissing Quinn on the cheek but refrained, unsure of the feelings it might elicit. Inwardly, Rachel sighed. It was no use trying to figure out everything now. The truth of the matter was that avoiding Quinn was quite the impossibility. They shared a good eighty percent of their scenes together, and truth be told, Rachel missed their easy camaraderie.

Quinn looked at the other woman who was clearly battling with herself. The blonde felt a slight desperation flitting around depths of her stomach. She didn't like an unhappy Rachel; the world seemed a little less bright, a little less light. She wanted to see that beaming Berry Gold Star Smile again. If the way she was acting during this filming was uncharacteristic, what she was about to was a whole different spectrum. She held out a hand. "Come with me."

Rachel smiled her first real smile in a while. It was actually more of a smirk. "If I want to live?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "And you call _me_ the nerd."

Rachel cocked her head. "I'm sorry, but who was it that got into the argument with Anson that Tommy Oliver is indisputably, without a doubt the greatest Power Ranger in the entire history of the series if not solely for the fact that his tenure spanned four incarnations and four colors, _and_ he got the girl?"

When she put it that way…Yeah, that sounded pretty nerdy. "I…am not going to dignify that with a response," Quinn grumbled, guiding Rachel towards the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" Rachel was surprised when Quinn commandeered her driver and ushered her into the backseat of the Range Rover.

The blonde merely smirked. "You'll see."

Rachel crossed her arms, pouting petulantly. "I am not good with surprises."

"You're gonna have to be," Quinn remarked. "I do have to ask you a question, though." She looked Rachel straight in the eye. "You were serious about getting a dog, right?"

Rachel nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I thoroughly researched the rigors of owning such a pet, and I'm quite certain I am able to provide the right amount of love and care. I'm still not certain what type of dog I'm partial to, however. I figured that would come when I actually am looking at the dogs."

"Good." Quinn grinned.

Rachel huffed, crossing her arms. "Why won't you just tell me what's going on?"

Quinn chuckled, shaking her head. "Because you're funny when you're impatient. You're worse than a toddler."

Rachel canted her head. "Don't you dare make a joke concerning my size, Quinn!"

Quinn shook her head. "I'll save it for later."

It wasn't a long drive to wherever they were going, and when the SUV finally stopped, it was in a nice manicured area, well-kept and aesthetically pleasing. Quinn opened her door, helping Rachel down. She hitched a head back to the building behind her. "You said you wanted a dog."

"Quinn!" Rachel beamed, resisting the urge to squeal in delight. She did, however, succumb to the temptation of throwing her arms around Quinn's neck. "This is great! Why not a pet store?"

Quinn blushed, shoving her hands into her pockets. "I figured you'd rather get one from animal rescue."

Rachel bit her lip, turning adoring eyes to the blonde. That was exactly something she would do. It touched her that Quinn would have the foresight to do such a thing. She couldn't help but tease Quinn, however.

"So this is why you didn't want to take your car." Rachel smirked. "You didn't want my new dog scrabbling all over your precious interior."

Quinn shrugged. "_Charlie_ barely gets to ride in the Ferrari." She reached out, grabbing Rachel's hand. "Come on. This is actually where I got Charlie."

The pair made their way through the doors. At the sound of the bell over the door, a short, portly man emerged from the back, a large smile on his face. The smile widened as he spotted the tall blonde. "Quinn! You're back. Looking to get another?"

Quinn laughed. "Not today, Oscar. Charlie's more than enough for me to handle." She hitched a head to Rachel. "I'm here for this one."

Oscar held out a hand, shaking Rachel's enthusiastically. "Miss Berry, I'm such a fan! I saw you as Millie and your debut as Roxie. You are breathtaking!"

Rachel beamed. "Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed your experience, and it's Rachel."

Oscar returned the smile. "So what can I help you with today?"

"We're here to look at some dogs," Quinn answered.

"Excellent." Oscar led the way out to a large, open area where a litany of dogs in different shapes and sizes were traipsing around, carefully minded by the staff.

Oscar waved his arm. "As you can see, we have a great variety of dogs. You can go ahead and take a look."

Rachel obliged, making her way into the fray. She bounced happily, crouching down as she observed the group. One large dog had made its way over to her and was circling Rachel. She leaned forward and offered out her hand. He sniffed it before a long, pink tongue extended, taking a tentative lick. He seemed to deem Rachel worthy, leaning his head into her touch.

"This one's cute." Rachel laughed, running her hands through the black and brown fur. She straightened, casting a glance to the various canines milling around. "There are so many! How am I going to choose?"

Quinn shrugged, unsure of how to answer when something caught her eye. She chuckled, gesturing in between them. "Something tells me you don't have a say."

Rachel frowned in confusion before glancing down. The huge dog had sat back on his haunches, almost like a he was on guard, and was growling at the other dogs who dared to approach. Quinn chuckled. He was clearly marking his territory. She could totally relate. When Rachel turned her attention to the dog, he barked with a doggie smile and licked her hand.

"Oh, dear, I think I've been claimed." Rachel looked to Oscar. "What type of dog is he?"

"A Rottweiler. He's still a pup but he's potty trained and housebroken. He's very obedient." Oscar smiled. "Smart little guy too."

"He's a puppy?" Rachel's eyes widened. The dog was already massive. The fact that he was a puppy meant he was going to get exponentially bigger. "Dear Patti LuPone. How much bigger is he going to get?"

"This one?" Oscar scratched his head. "Pretty big, I'd say. Most males reach about two feet tall and a buck-thirty in weight. He'd be a great guard dog though."

Rachel considered that point for second. She looked down at the dog. He grinned, tongue lolling out, eyes widening in a silent entreaty. Rachel crouched down, staring the dog in the eye. "If I take you, you must keep in mind how tiny I am and treat me accordingly."

It seemed to be a slightly inane gesture, but Quinn knew better than to underestimate the intelligence of a dog. Charlie was a prime example of that.

The large puppy – if it was even accurate to call him that – met her gaze. He seemed to be considering that for a moment before he barked, almost like he was agreeing. With another doggie grin, he licked a long line up Rachel's cheek that she giggled at.

Rachel threw her arms around the dog, rubbing his fur vigorously. "Oh, he's absolutely adorable. I certainly can't say no!" She pressed a smacking kiss to the top of his head. "I think I'll name him Hugo."

"Hugo?" Quinn cocked her head. "Why?"

Rachel shrugged. "Doesn't he look like a Hugo? And after Victor Hugo, brilliant mastermind behind _Les Miserables_."

Quinn laughed. "Does everything have to do with musical theatre in your world?"

"My exaltations are often in reference to legendary Broadway divas, starting with the incomparable Barbra Streisand," Rachel deadpanned. "What do you think?"

Quinn bobbed her head from side to side, conceding her point.

Rachel looked up at Oscar. "Can I take him home today?"

Oscar couldn't help but smile at her eagerness. "Normally the pet adoption process takes about a week, just so we can make sure the animal is placed in a proper home, but I think we can make an exception if Quinn here will vouch for you."

"She's has a cat already and she's probably the most meticulous person I know." Quinn smiled down at her costar. "I have no doubt she's going to take good care of him."

Oscar nodded. "That works for me."

A pile of paperwork and a trip to the pet shop later, the group was on their way back to drop off Rachel – and the newly dubbed Hugo – back at the hotel. Rachel bit her lip, looking to her costar.

"Quinn?"

"Hmmm?"

Her arms around Hugo as he squirmed excitedly, clearly ecstatic to be going home, Rachel smiled softly. "Thank you for this."

Quinn huffed out a laugh. "I don't know what it is about you, Rachel Berry, but I find myself acting completely uncharacteristically around you."

She knew exactly what the blonde meant.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel smiled as she reclined on the couch of her hotel suite. She looked down at Hugo, lazing on the floor, thoroughly worn out from his trip to the park. He looked so handsome fresh from a bath with the black faux leather studded collar, his tags and a star charm hanging from a loop. One of the first things she had done in her excitement was tweet – MsRachelBerry to all of her intrepid followers – her news, complete with a picture (Hugo was actually quite photogenic).

**MsRachelBerry  
><strong>Say hello to my new puppy, Hugo! Thanks for taking me _QuinnLucas_.

Within minutes, she was flooded with replies and mentions, including choice ones from Puck, Santana, Brittany, and, of course, Quinn.

**NoahPuckerman69  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry_ Now that's a badass pup, Starlet.

**ItzSantanaBitch  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry_ Keep him away from my Louboutins!

**TheRealBrittanySPierce  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry_ He's gonna get lots of hugs! It's even in his name.

**QuinnLucas  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry_ No problem. Charlie's ecstatic he has a new playmate!

Rachel thought about her costar as she read the last tweet. Quinn had truly surprised her. Everything the blonde had done had been more than Brady had ever done for her, even in the months he had spent wooing her. Her mind started whirling with the possibilities. She needed someone to help her sort all of this out before these conflicting feelings made her spontaneously combust with all the pressure.

Hugo rumbled, hopping onto the couch beside her. She observed him for a moment, absently running her hand over his soft fur. Quinn often mentioned that she held conversations with Charlie…

Oh, what the hell.

Rachel took a deep breath. "You know, Hugo. I've been thinking about things lately."

She smiled as the Rottweiler scooted forward. He looked more attentive, his ears wiggling as he sat up a bit.

"Brady should be it for me," she murmured. "He's handsome, he's talented…He is everything I had dreamed about when I envisioned my leading man. But there's something missing."

Hugo laid his head on her knee, looking up at her with wide eyes. It was enough to encourage her to continue.

"But lately, I've been thinking so much about Quinn…" Rachel shook her head. "She's so different than what I've heard. Everyone knows – or thinks they know – that she's an Ice Queen. And she is, but there's so much more to her. She's warm, open, sweet…she hides it well, though. You just have to do some digging to get to it. And her mind…who knew she was so deep?" Rachel laughed to herself. "Who knew she was such a nerd?"

Hugo was a good listener, she decided. He merely sat there, offering his comfort. There were no judgments, no rebuttals.

"There's just something there, and I felt things, Hugo," she admitted. "From just a touch, it was like I touched a live wire. Every single nerve capable of feeling seemed like it was charged with electricity."

Hugo propped his paws on her knee, a gesture of solidarity from dog to mistress.

Rachel continued. She seemed like she was drifting away to a place beyond her current location on the couch, somewhere deep inside her thoughts. "And her eyes. They're so gorgeous. When she looks at me, there's so much there. When I met her, I couldn't see through them. You know, how they say the eyes are like the windows to the soul? It was like there was a shade pulled over them. Now, I can see everything."

Hugo knew enough to nod his head. That kinda made sense, he guessed.

Rachel seemed to be talking almost to herself. "I can't shake the feeling that I've seen those eyes before." She laughed, dismissing the notion. "That's absurd. I'd surely remember if I'd met Quinn before."

Hugo whined to himself. He tried to help but he was only a puppy after all. This was stuff for the big dogs, and his…ding-a-lings hadn't dropped enough to earn the silly cone hat he saw a few of the guys wearing after they had become one of the big dogs, let alone know enough about girl dogs and boy dogs to help his mistress.

"What does this all mean?" Rachel sighed, looking to her puppy. "What do you think?"

Hugo rumbled, the sound clearly an 'I don't know' and flopped onto his back and rolled from side to side, his tongue lolling out.

Rachel sighed. "You're no help…"

Hugo whined his apology, clambering up to Rachel's side. She rubbed his head. "It's alright, boy. This is something I have to figure out on my own, huh?"

Rachel was torn from her musings as her head snapped up. The locks to the suite disengaged, and the door swung open to admit Brittany and Santana.

"Check it out." Santana slapped a supermarket tabloid on the coffee table. "You've hit the big time. The tabloids are interested in you." As she passed by the couch on her way to the kitchen, she reached down, scratching Hugo behind the ears.

Rachel took the paper, rolling her eyes at the glossy picture of her and Brady at the restaurant.

* * *

><p><strong>SPOTTED!<strong>

Broadway starlet and her leading man dine together

_Tony Award-winning starlet and big screen newcomer Rachel Berry was seen out and about with a tall, dark, and handsome hunk yesterday evening. Berry's mystery man is identified as fellow Broadway talent, Brady Shaw, who has played roles in Wicked and Hairspray. Prior to being cast as Mia St. Claire in Christian Keller's highly anticipated military drama, Berry was occupying the Great White Way as Millie Dillmount in the Tony Award-winning revival and most recently as Roxie Hart in the long-running production of Chicago. _

_Sources state the two have been together since Shaw exited the production of _Thoroughly Modern Millie_ after playing the romantic interest opposite Berry's lead for a year._

* * *

><p>"That's great," Rachel grumbled. "It's going to be like high school all over again." Rachel laid the script in her lap to the side. Don had forwarded it to her a couple of days ago saying she'd be perfect for one of the lead roles. He had also noted that the creator had asked for him to specifically send it to Rachel. She knew it was slightly bad taste to when she was yet to finish <em>Duty and Honor<em> (affectionately dubbed "D&H"), but thus was the life of a performer: always looking for the next job. She had learned that from Megan Hilty.

"That's one thing I was not excited about," she remarked. "The paparazzi seem to love following me around now."

"Shaw should be ecstatic," Santana drawled. "He's finally the subject of tabloid fodder."

Rachel cocked her head. "Speaking of, have you guys heard from Brady at all?"

Santana rolled her eyes, moving to the kitchen area to sort out the groceries. "Nope. And don't care where he is, either. The further he is from me, the better."

"San, be nice." Brittany turned to Rachel. "He mentioned something about an interview with some Broadway blog."

Rachel smiled. "That's the second one this week. It's nice he's still catching interest even currently without a role."

Hugo was idling on the floor, lazing contentedly and serving as a rather large cushion for Reno sprawled on his back. She supposed it violated the laws of nature and the animal kingdom, but the two animals seemed to have come to an agreement when it came to each other's existence.

_God, I dreamed there was an angel  
><em>_Who could hear me through the wall  
><em>_As I cried out like in Latin  
><em>_"This is so not life at all!  
><em>_Help me out, out of this nightmare!"  
><em>_Then I heard her silver call  
><em>_She said, "Just give it time, kid  
><em>_I come to one and all."_

Rachel's attention shifted to her phone as the familiar ring tone sounded, and she accepted the incoming call, lifting her phone to her ear. "Hey, Mr. Diva."

"I'm quite peeved at you, Miss Diva." The voice on the other end, one of the most beautiful tenors she had ever encountered, was even melodic when speaking. "You've been in the area for quite some time now, and I have heard neither hide nor hair from you."

Rachel laughed. It was déjà vu but with better articulation. "I texted you, Jesse!"

"Yes, and we haven't been out together since you've been here."

She could hear the pout in his voice. "You were busy with your opening in New York."

"And now I'm not busy. I neeeeeed to see you," he whined.

"Well, are you planning to join us on Sunday?"

"Ew, football."

"Come on!" Rachel wheedled. "Some of the LA group will be there, and Quinn Lucas is hosting."

"That certainly changes things."

Rachel knew that tone. It was the spoken equivalent of the ridiculous "Show Face" her mother had imparted on Vocal Adrenaline. "Jesse St. James, you are not about to use my get-together to network!"

There was a petulant huff on the other end. "…Alright." Jesse paused. "Have you read my script?"

"Jesse!"

He mocked her previous admonishment. "Raaaa-chel."

Rachel sighed. She really did love this man. That was the only reason she was humoring him. "I'm looking at it right now."

"Glorious. I want to talk to you about it. Can I meet you somewhere?"

Again, she loved this man. It was the only reason she agreed. Packing up her stuff, she whistled to Hugo. The puppy wiggled, rousing Reno who vacated her position with a disgruntled hiss.

"I'm meeting Jesse for coffee," she informed Santana who was perusing the rest of the paper. "I'll be back in a bit."

"See you, Tiny!" Santana waited until Rachel was safely out of the room and on her way to the elevator before turning to Brittany as the blonde finished up finalizing Rachel's schedule. "Alright, Baby B, real up, right now. We have got to get rid of Douche-bizzle Bray-dizzle. You know as well as I do that interview has got to be a load of bull-honky. At the height of _Millie's_ Tony buzz, he got a minor mention. Barely two sentences."

"No, San," Brittany reprimanded lightly as she sank down on the couch.

"C'mon, babe," Santana whined. "We've known Shaw is an absolute asshole. It's our duty as Rachel's best friends. Bitty Baby B deserves better, and she's forbidden me to give him a smackdown. This is the next best thing."

"Rachel has to figure out she's a dolphin on her own," Brittany refuted. "We can't tell her that stuff. And she has to see Quinn's little doll before they can be like you and me."

Santana got the first two analogies, but the last one was new. "Wait, 'you and me,'" she repeated. "Like you and me…?"

"And sexy times," Brittany affirmed. "San, Quinn's totally a dolphin."

A lot of things made sense to Santana in that moment. Still…with Brittany, sometimes things needed a bit of an explanation. "Are you sure?"

"Uh-huh."

"And she likes Rachel," Santana clarified.

Brittany nodded happily. "Yup!"

"Who is also a dolphin?"

"Precisely."

"Huh…" Santana absorbed that for a moment. "It actually figures."

Brittany bounced. "Right?"

One thing still escaped Santana's comprehension. "Wait, what do you mean Rachel has to see Quinn's little doll?"

"It's like those dolls that when you open up there's a littler doll inside. I think they're like from Russia or something," Brittany explained patiently, standing and moving in front of her lover. "Everyone, like us, just sees the biggest doll. But Rachel's opened up that doll and she's found the middle doll. She needs to get to the itty bitty doll before she and Quinn can have sweet lady kisses and happily ever after."

In the most roundabout way, Brittany made absolute sense. Santana reached up, tenderly tucking a strand of Brittany's silk hair behind her ear. "Baby, how are you so smart?"

Brittany thought about that for a moment, sliding her arms around Santana's neck. "It's like Ray said when all first became friends," she deduced. "I just think in another way. You think in straight lines. I think in squiggly ones. They're the same, it's still like a line, but mine just go different."

Santana grinned, leaning in to capture Brittany's lips, licking and sucking her way to Brittany's special spot. Hearing the giggles that ended in a breathy moan, Santana allowed herself to be pushed back on the couch, held in a vice grip by long, lean dancer legs. As Brittany hovered over her, somehow divested of her top revealing pert breasts and a toned stomach highlighted by a sexy indent dividing the muscle sections, Santana couldn't help but think her girl was the smartest ever…and really freakin' hot.

xxx-xxx-xxx

To her surprise, Jesse picked a rather discreet location for their meeting: a small, corner coffee shop not too far from her hotel. Since it was within walking distance, she took Hugo with her, hiding behind a pair of D&G pilot-style sunglasses. She had to admit, it was kind of a thrill to be recognized. As she approached, he rose from his seat at a small table right on patio. Jesse was as handsome as ever. His hair still sported that luscious curl achieved with just the minimal amount of product. His light blue eyes still twinkled with their shrewd sheen, always searching for talent, but rather than the overwhelming arrogance he had displayed in high school was a tempered confidence. They crinkled at the corners as he bestowed a beaming smile to Rachel.

"Look at you, Ms. Diva," he gushed. "As gorgeous as ever."

"And you, Mr. Diva," she returned. "I shall faint from your dashing good looks."

Jesse had graduated from his musical maverick ensembles of worn denim, leather jackets, and motorcycle boots to something a bit more fitting for a man who won multiple Tonys on both the performance side and the production side. He always looked so put together, and today wasn't different with his black slacks, a gray vest over a black v-neck shirt, the sleeves pushed to his elbows, and a matching gray scarf tied artfully around his neck. She did notice he still had his lucky cuff from high school though. They exchanged kisses, and Jesse squatted down to the puppy sitting dutifully at his mistress's side. "Who's this ruggedly handsome fella?"

"My new puppy, Hugo."

"As in Victor Hugo?" At Rachel's nod, Jesse grinned. "I should expect nothing less."

Hugo peered up at the new arrival suspiciously. He circled around Jesse, testing out the other man. Leaning in, Hugo sniffed Jesse's hand and scrutinized the new human closely. He obviously deemed Jesse worthy enough as he bared his teeth in a doggie smile, tongue lolling happily.

"He's friendly!" Jesse noted.

"Not to everyone," Rachel warned. She cocked her head thoughtfully. "He nearly ripped Brady's pants off by the back pocket the first time they met."

Jesse's face twisted in displeasure. "Let's refrain from mentioning him, shall we?" He scratched Hugo behind the ears. "Good boy," he whispered with a grin.

Rachel sighed. "Jesse!"

"Sorry, sorry."

Jesse ascended gracefully into his seat as a waitress brought by a vanilla latte and Rachel's favorite blueberry lemon scone, both of course made in deference to Rachel's dietary preferences. "So what did you think?"

Rachel retrieved the script from her bag, plopping it down in front of her. Jesse had taken their collective experiences in high school and fashioned their stories into a workable television series. The script told the story of a hapless glee club, helmed by the kindhearted English teacher Mr. Warren Schuman, and their battle against the school's hierarchy. One of the ensemble characters, tentatively dubbed the secondary lead, was Rebecca "Becca" Bly. Rachel couldn't help but laugh as she read through Becca's lines. She had half-expected Jesse to concoct a character much like herself in high school without the influence of Santana and Brittany, but rather, Becca was a sarcastic, loner misfit with a talent for music and a secret passion for Broadway.

"I think it's a remarkably entertaining portrayal of our high school experience," Rachel answered. "And a very strong pilot."

"Hopefully with the right team, we can get it picked up for a series," Jesse enthused. "I have a wonderful plan for the season. In the second episode I'm introducing my version of Vocal Adrenaline, tentatively dubbed Sound Impact."

"An excellent play on words," Rachel complimented. Her expression softened with nostalgia. "I remember the first time Mr. Schuester took us to see you guys perform. I told him it was a bad idea, but he insisted."

"He was quite put off when you ran up to Shelby and gave her a huge hug after that invitational," Jesse recalled.

Rachel waved a dismissive hand. "If he had done his homework the way he said he did, he should have known that half of my genetic makeup comes from the only supreme talent in the Akron area."

"He always did have a rather skewed version of the real world," Jesse mused. "I heard about you guys cobbling together a Nationals set the night before the prelims."

This time, it was Rachel's face that twisted in displeasure. "I vehemently opposed that idea, but to no avail of course. Then after all that work, Finn kissed me, forever ruining our chances for a national title."

"Puck told me you popped him one once you were off stage."

"He had no right to do such an unprofessional stunt, knowing how much time and effort I put into the arrangements!"

"I still never got why Schuester insisted on making him your male lead," Jesse mused. "His dancing was atrocious. You had Puck as a viable option."

"For some reason, Mr. Schuester _insisted_ on living vicariously through Finn," Rachel grumbled. "Something about 'seeing himself in Finn.' It's quite obvious Noah's voice suits mine much better, not to mention Noah is by far the superior dancer when he actually tries."

"And yet you still pined after Saint Finn for the better part of the year," Jesse felt compelled to point out. He winked. "Thank goodness you came to your senses your junior year. And thank goodness that Blaine kid transferred. He was what got you Nationals."

"Blaine was an excellent male lead." Rachel sighed. "Shame he's gay. I would have totally gone for him."

Jesse cocked his head. "I can't say I share that sentiment. You're not the only one who came to their senses."

Rachel glared at the man, picking up on his unvoiced intention. "Don't you dare, Jesse!"

"Please," Jesse waved a hand. "Even if he was my type, I do actually like and respect Kurt. I wouldn't do that to him." Jesse reconsidered his statement. "Although…does that 'Friends = Dating Possibilities' thing extend to gay men too?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You've been watching too much Michelle Paradise."

"Uh, yeah! She's a freakin' _genius_."

"And you tell me," Rachel chided. 'How many degrees of separation are there with you and your exes?"

Jesse thought about that for a moment. "Three, I think. To be fair, the Broadway scene is rather condensed."

"You elitist."

"It's called having standards," Jesse protested. "And you should talk. I still remember the comprehensive list of all the things you look for in a leading male you compiled in high school."

"Please, Jesse, _you_ were more of a diva than I was in high school. I deign to know what your standards were back then."

Jesse waved off her comment. "Hey, I was a confused, closeted gay man. My standards had desperation behind them." He returned the conversation back to his original topic. "From what I hear, Blaine is currently doing quite well on Broadway. He's been playing J. Pierrepont Finch in _How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying_."

Rachel sighed. "I wonder if they would have lasted if they had made it this far."

Jesse's brows drew together. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I told you about how jealous Kurt was when Blaine landed Tony in _West Side Story_ our senior year," Rachel reminded him. "Kurt wanted so bad to make it on Broadway. I don't think he could have taken Blaine's success without a bit of resentment. Unfortunately, there simply aren't enough roles for countertenors in contemporary Broadway. Especially not lead roles."

Jesse nodded. "Have you talked to him lately?"

Rachel nodded. "Just on the phone. He's busy with his new line. I believe his current mission is to find Lauren Conrad and, 'start a fashion revolution of epic proportions.' His words, not mine. We've set a tentative sushi date."

"Is he happy?"

"Yes," Rachel answered. "I do believe so. He just broke up with his latest boyfriend, so he's a bit lonely, but he was enthusiastic about this new line."

"Do you think they'll have another chance one day?"

Rachel smiled. "You know me, Jesse. I always believe true love will prevail."

"Alright, I must confess I asked to meet you not just so that we could catch up."

"I figured, Jesse." Rachel eyed him. "You forget, I've known you for a very long time."

"I want you to play Becca."

"What?"

"Rachel, who better? I wrote this character with you in mind."

"Jesse, I don't know. You really think I can play the sullen loner?"

"I think you can play an inanimate object and make it stunning," Jesse countered. "You're that good of an actress."

Rachel cocked her head. "Thanks, I think..."

He ducked his head. "I have a feeling about this, Rachel," he persisted. "With the right people in the right roles, I think this show can be amazing."

Rachel bit her lip. It was an ingenious plot, and Becca was a great character with some wonderful lines. Still… "I don't know Jesse."

"Rachel, you know I love and respect your commitment to Broadway, but what is left for you? You've won your Tony. I know you want to originate a role, but let's be fair. Nothing's out there. We haven't had a hit original musical in quite some time. This is brings about everything you've ever wanted in a role."

Rachel still didn't look convinced, but Jesse knew she was at least enticed. He really did think she had what it took to helm this show, and with her voice…

"I know this is quite a commitment. I know this means uprooting your life and bringing it here, but I think you're ready to tackle a bigger medium." He really did have the utmost confidence in her. "You've obviously done well with _Duty and Honor _from what I hear."

Rachel finally met his eyes. "Can I think about it?"

Jesse laughed. "Of course, hon. I'm not asking you to sign your life away right this second. Give it some thought." He checked the time on his phone. "Damn, I've got to go. I'm consulting on a production they want to tour that's previewing at the Pantages."

Rachel smiled. "Alright, Mr. Diva. I'll talk to you soon."

Jesse leaned down, bestowing a parting kiss on the cheek. "Think about it, Ms. Diva."

"I will."

Rachel sat back and obliged. Hugo traipsed over, laying his head on her lap. She ran her fingers through his fur. Jesse's words rang through her mind. Following _Duty and Honor_, she knew that even more avenues would be open for her in this entertainment industry. She knew this story would resonate with the public, and she was certain her own performance was first-rate in its quality. The point of pursuing this movie was to broaden her horizons past Broadway, and she truly was excited to pursue the entirety of the entertainment world. Still...did that mean she was going to relocate to Los Angeles? More importantly, was she _ready_ to make this move to Los Angeles?

* * *

><p><em>And there we go! As you can see, this chapter focuses on Rachel's awakening: first her awakening concerning her obsession with leading men, then an awakening of sorts to one Quinn Lucas, and lastly an awakening to a possible future in Hollywood.<em>

_I kinda tried something different with the photo shoot scene, almost a montage like feeling. Like you see a flash of the photo, then the action behind it, if that made sense. I'm not sure if it turned out smooth enough, so let me know if it worked for you! As always, don't be afraid to leave a review or comment on Twitter..._

_I hope you guys liked the inclusion of Jesse for a bit. I try to put in at least a mention of the rest of the gleeks and other characters in canon just so you get an idea where they went from McKinley, but I don't plan on including any of them in the story for a prolonged period. They may make an appearance, but pretty much everyone who is already established in the story is about the extent of it. The others (Mercedes, Tina, Artie, etc.) will get a cameo or just a mention, but that's about all. I do have to warn you that Finn will have a role, but just a small one, I promise!_

_Next chapter: Brady's exit! I hope it's spectacular enough for everyone._

_*ISP_


	9. Chapter 8

_Hey, guys! I've got a problem…I'm looking for this amazingly awesome show that typically airs Tuesdays on Fox at 9/8c. It used to be a pretty kickass program with storylines that were a bit fantastical, but engaging. I tune in every Tuesday, but I can't seem to find it. Instead, I watch one big clusterfuck that seems to go in about twelve different directions and gets more ridiculous each episode. Uh, does anyone know where my show went?_

_Lol, slightly frustrated rant over. Don't mind me, I'm just venting, lol. On a happier note, this was a fun chapter to write! I'm sorry about the delay, but I moved from the Midwest back home to California, so I kinda was preoccupied. As an apology, I'm giving you guys lots of goodies in this one: some lady lovin' between our favorite trio (kind of), Brady gets the rather insistent boot complete with a Diva smackdown, courtesy of Rachel, Sloane and Mia kiss for the first time – which of course means that technically Quinn and Rachel do as well – some football shenanigans that end in some inadvertent cuddle time, and a juicy new direction for the plot (no pun intended). Hope you all enjoy this one!_

_The theme for this one is going with the flow. Or, in this case, going with the sexual flow. More specifically, the changes in sexual flow. As you can probably guess, someone's flow is changing course. Now if only she would realize exactly what that meant…_

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 8<span>

_**It was part of the McKinley lore that Puckerman parties were downright legendary in the McKinley social spectrum. Everyone knew they happened, but getting invited to one meant that you weren't a loser. It was a chance to solidify your social status. Everyone knew something epic always happened at a Puckerman party, and if you were cool enough, if you knew the right people, you'd be privy to the legions of inside jokes that stemmed from the night.**_

_**Puck's parties weren't huge – there simply weren't enough people deemed popular enough for that to be. So, normally, when people entered, it was someone familiar. They were afforded a casual glance, you know, just to make sure they actually belonged there. But people looked when Rachel Berry walked into the room. She wasn't quite aware of the attention, she was actually on the phone with her fathers, making sure they were aware of her plans. It was difficult to look away. She just had an aura about her. It was like in the movies when the It Girl walks in glowing and in slow motion – they parodied it in **_**Not Another Teen Movie**_**. It was an aura of complete confidence and it made her hated and admired in the same breath. Where her peers still fumbled with their identities, Rachel was secure in hers. She knew exactly who she was and refused to appease the masses.**_

_**However, the masses could not ignore the fact that Rachel Berry was hot. Her ridiculously long legs and pert ass seemed almost otherworldly on her petite body, and she teased them all highlighting those features in a pair of short jean shorts paired with cute flats. A smooth shoulder peeked out from her top, and she flicked her long hair behind her.**_

_**Rachel squeaked as she found herself lifted into the air. She laughed, however, as she found herself face to face with the trademark Noah Puckerman leer.**_

"_**Damn, babe, you look fine. Fortunately, the Puckster is available for use with ten fingers and one large–"**_

"_**Noah!" Rachel cut him off with a giggle, winding her legs around Puck's waist as she gave him a hug hello. "That was horrible when you used it on Monica Rizzo. What makes you think it would be any better on me?"**_

_**Puck grinned, bracing his palms on her ass to support her weight. "Because you've already felt the Puckster's lady lovin'," he reasoned. "You know I'm good for it."**_

"_**Noah, you know better than that," she scolded playfully. **_

"_**C'mon, Starlet," Puck growled. "Help a Jew Bro out." He rolled his hips against hers teasingly. "You know the lovin' between us is mad hot." **_

_**Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck. "Be that as it may, Jew Bro, just because I've lost my virginity to you does not give you license to request sex any time you want it. You know I wish to be wooed."**_

_**He leaned in, nipping at her pulse point, knowing that was where she went absolutely wild. "I know, Starlet. Just givin' you the heads up. The Puckerone is always ready and willing for you."**_

_**Rachel giggled, running an affectionate hand through his Mohawk. She leaned in, kissing his cheek. "Thanks, Noah. I shall keep that in mind."**_

_**He laughed, setting her down. She wrapped her arms around his waist, gazing up at him adoringly. Seeing her look at him like that, it seemed like all was right in his world. He knew that he would do anything for her, no matter how they ended up. She was his Jew Babe first and foremost.**_

"_**Hey, Rach?"**_

"_**You do know that I love you, right?" Puck flushed, running a hand over his Mohawk, one of his rare nervous tics. "Like no matter how shit goes down between us or whatever, you'll always be my girl."**_

_**Rachel beamed. "Yes, Noah, I do know that."**_

_**Puck nodded gruffly and turned around. He caught the collar of some hapless underclassman jock passing him and yanked the younger boy back. Swiping the closed can of beer from the boy's grasp, Puck shoved the other jock away and popped the top. Tossing his head back, he chugged the alcohol down and tossed it into one of the many garbage bags situated around the house, already starting to fill with like empty cans. "Alright, I'm gonna get drunk. All this emotional shit is seriously giving me the twitches." He turned to the rest of the party.**_

"_**Alright, fuckers, game time! Anyone who's not a lameass pussy come to the den." Clomping down the stairs, he gathered them around the large coffee table. "Game of the night, Drunk Jenga!"**_

_**Rachel eyed him warily. "What's Drunk Jenga?"**_

"_**The best drinking game ever!" Puck grinned, plopping a cylindrical box on the tabletop. "I picked it up from a buddy down at Ohio State's football camp. Basically, it's like the game Jenga. You take out a block from anywhere on the tower and put it on top. The thing is," he turned a bunch over, "the blocks have things written on them. Whichever block you take, you have to do what's written on it. Some are drinking related, others are a dare, and like five of them are blank. If you're the one to knock the tower down, you have to finish your drink."**_

"_**Some of them require another person," Puck smacked a deck of cards onto the table. "And these will tell us who the lucky recipient will be."**_

_**The excitement of the game, combined with the silly fun of the dares, entertained the group of teenagers. Through the course of ten minutes, Mike Chang had to wear his boxers on his head, Puck gave away three drinks while taking two himself, Finn had to do the chicken dance for thirty seconds, and one of the freshman hockey players had to serenade everyone with a Disney song. Rachel successfully wiggled a block from halfway down the tower, turning it over with a hesitant frown.**_

"_**Lap dance."**_

_**Puck pumped a fist as Rachel placed the block on top of the tower. "Yes, I was hoping someone would pick that!" He grabbed the stack of cards and slid one out. A seven of hearts. He counted seven people over from Rachel, landing on Santana.**_

"_**Lopez, it's you."**_

_**Santana sauntered over to the chair, easing herself down. She cocked an eyebrow to Rachel, a clear challenge to the little diva. **_

"_**Make this worth my while, Tiny," she teased.**_

_**Rachel's eyes narrowed in response. With a toss of her hair, she moved over to the iPod dock, scrolling through the songs until she found the one she was looking for.**_

**Ciara  
><strong>**Uh-huh**

**Catch me in the mall  
><strong>**You know I buy it out  
><strong>**G5 plane, yeah I fly it out  
><strong>**Jiggas in the back look like Lex in them 28**

**Naw you can't get her  
><strong>**If you ain't got plenty cake  
><strong>**ATL, Georgia, booties look like this size  
><strong>**23 waist, pretty face, thick thighs**

_** Santana's eyes widened as Rachel advanced on her, a teasing smirk playing on her full lips. She stopped in front of Santana, hips swaying side to side, her arms stretched over her head. Santana gulped. Rachel crooked a finger, swinging a leg over Santana's hips to straddle the Latina in the chair. Bracing her hands on the back, one over each shoulder, Rachel leaned over, her body snaking up Santana's teasingly brushing their breasts together before slowly grinding down.**_

**I can do it big  
><strong>**I can do it long  
><strong>**I can do whenever or however you want  
><strong>**I can do it up and down  
><strong>**I can do it circles  
><strong>**To him I'm a gymnast  
><strong>**This ring is my circus**

**I market it so good  
><strong>**They can't wait to try-ah-ah-ah-ah  
><strong>**Me-e-e-ay-ay  
><strong>**I work it so good  
><strong>**Man, these jiggas  
><strong>**Tryna buy-ah-ah-ah me**

_** Rachel mirrored the lyrics, her body rolling up and down, side to side, rotating in a languid circular motion. She was like something out of a Shakira music video, fueled with Beyonce, with a touch of the woman lending the vocals, Ciara. Santana's mouth sagged at the sight of Rachel's hips and torso gyrating as though the spirit of some belly dancer possessed the tiny frame before her.**_

_** For her part, Rachel had to admit it was rather fun eliciting this sort of emotion from Santana. She was well aware that, while not entirely prudish, she was much more sexually conservative than her best friend, and their discrepancies were constantly a source of lighthearted ribbing. However, Rachel was very much capable of radiating the same sexual energy as the Latina, and she relished the chance to show that.**_

**They love they way I ride it  
><strong>**They love they way I ride it  
><strong>**They love they way I ride it  
><strong>**They love the way I ride the beat  
><strong>**How I ride the beat, I ride it**

**They love they way I ride it  
><strong>**They love they way I ride it  
><strong>**They love they way I ride it  
><strong>**They love the way I ride the beat  
><strong>**Like a motherfuckin freak**

_** Santana breathed heavily through her nose, muttering under her breath in Spanish. Her knuckles had gone white as she clutched the chair, desperately trying not to react to the heavenly body winding and working above her. **_

_** "So, friggin' hot," she groaned. "**_**Ay Dios mio, asi mamita**_**…What the hell, Berry? Where has this been and why haven't you broke this out before?"**_

_** She very nearly died as Rachel turned around, her booty popping like she was born to do it. Santana wasn't exactly sure what was more incredible: the fact that Rachel's pert ass was bouncing like a pro, or that it was **_**Rachel Berry **_**doing **__**the bouncing. **_

_** As the last notes of the song faded out, Rachel did one more roll up, before swaggering away, her hips moving tantalizingly back and forth. Santana stayed in her spot for a long moment, gulping down breaths of air before staggering from the chair, grabbing her drink, and downing the rest before disappearing into the kitchen to make another.**_

_** Puck's leer turned downright lecherous as he decided he had enough spank bank material to last him the rest of his high school career. He held out a hand that Rachel high-fived with a laugh. **_

"_**Starlet, that was badass!"**_

_** The sensual seductress vanished, and prim, proper Rachel Berry returned. She grinned, taking her drink and sitting back in her spot, folding her legs demurely underneath her. "Thank you, Noah." **_

_**A few others went with some great hilarity: Sam took a body shot off of one of the freshman Cheerios, a basketball player stripped down to his boxers and sang "I'm a Little Tea Pot," and a soccer girl took her bra off and put it on the outside of her shirt. When Brittany pulled the "Make Out" tile, all the males sat up straighter as she carefully placed it atop the tower. Puck snatched up his Deck of Fate, thumbing out a card and smacking it atop the table. Everyone leaned forward to see the king of spades winking up at them. Counting around the group brought it all the way back to Rachel.**_

"_**Berry-licious, you're up!"**_

_** Brittany caught the deer-in-the-headlights expression adorning the smaller girl's face, and she hastened to reassure Rachel. "Don't worry, Rach, San is cool with it. It's like her number one fantasy right after me and a–"**_

"_**Britt!" Santana practically sprinted back to the circle, having caught the beginning of Brittany's unconscious admission.**_

_**Comprehension dawned in light blue eyes. "Oh, sorry. Forgot that's a secret." She smiled brightly at Rachel. "You ready?"**_

_**Rachel nodded dumbly. "I guess so." She cast another glance towards Santana who had settled down into the circle. They may be best friends, but Santana was still highly territorial when it came to Brittany. "You're not gonna shank me after, are you?"**_

_**Santana's lips curled in a smile that often set fear thrumming through the hearts of McKinley. "Eh…"**_

_**Rachel grumbled under her breath. "Yeah, that's reassuring." **_

_**Brittany giggled, scooting closer. "No worries, Rach…sweet lady kisses are like the best thing ever."**_

_**Without anything further, she leaned in, pressing her lips to Rachel's. The brunette let out a squeak before relaxing into the kiss. Rachel inhaled sharply through her nose as Brittany's skillful lips slid across hers. It was different than the previous kisses she had ever experienced. Finn had been sloppy at best, overeager and grabby. Puck was controlled, almost mechanic, his experience in the arena making him almost methodical when he kissed. Brittany, however, was perfect, the 'just right' to her Goldilocks. Soft, gentle lips move against hers, Brittany's tongue coyly asking for permission. Unconsciously, Rachel's lips parted, a moan stilling in her throat as Brittany's tongue invaded her mouth, teasingly playing with hers. Oh, sweet Barbra…Brittany was masterful, nipping at her upper lip, licking at her bottom, playfully moving her mouth out of reach. Rachel didn't know whether she did so unconsciously or not, but she found herself leaning forward to reestablish contact. With one final playful lick and a small giggle, Brittany leaned back.**_

_**Rachel exhaled deeply, unaware that she had held her breath as her eyelids fluttered open. It seemed as though every single pore in her body tingled.**_

"_**Oh, wow…" Santana was the first one to speak. "That was totally hot."**_

_**Rachel knew her face was flushed as she snuck a glance towards Brittany. The blonde was busy reassuring her girlfriend, and Rachel swore that it was just familiarity with the situation in that she felt utterly comfortable with the affectionate display.**_

_**It was one of the last memories Rachel had of the night, but she was certain she was alright with that notion. As the pleasant void greeted her for the night, she remembered the idle thought that flit through her mind: girls were **_**awesome**_**. **_

_**The morning after came with much confusion, and Rachel woke up with the hangover to end all hangovers. Pinned down by the combined limbs of two other people, she surveyed her surroundings, not entirely certain she wasn't still slightly drunk. She was half-naked in Puck's bed, only in Puck's football jersey, Santana was on her right in her bra and boyshorts, and Brittany was lying half on Rachel's side, half on top of Santana in a tanktop and panties. She groaned as she remembered giving Santana a lap dance, receiving a lap dance from Brittany, making out with Santana, Brittany, and Puck, and taking a body shot off a sophomore Cheerio. She was pretty sure it was Tricia Dash. And she was also pretty sure she enjoyed every single minute of it.**_

_** Rachel whimpered even more, burrowing under the covers. She had always been a proponent of a fluid sexuality, but it didn't mean she wished her flow to be so…flowy. At least not right now. She might have been secure in her identity, but life tended not to be so kind when it came to certainties such as that. And this curveball it just threw her was a tricky one, indeed.**_

_**Yeah, Rachel was certain drinking games…especially ones with stupid little blocks with stupid little dares were the worst idea **_**ever**_**…**_

The concept of homosexuality was not a foreign one to Rachel Berry. She had been raised by two gay men, her two best friends were in a lesbian relationship, and three of her four closest male friends were gay. However, Rachel had never identified herself as anything other than straight. She had acknowledged attraction to a few women in her lifetime, but none of that attraction was enough to warrant appeasing a certain curiosity. As a result, all of her previous romantic relationships had been with males. So these feelings she was experiencing towards Quinn Lucas were quite foreign to her.

And right now, her object of the confusion was right in front of her, engaging in one thing that Rachel could readily admit made Quinn exceedingly attractive. It was no secret that Rachel found talent to be quite irresistible, and Quinn Lucas was certainly very talented when it came to the broad range of emotions she had to portray as Sloane Gerard. Right now, Quinn was currently on-set in the middle of the Greensborough town square, standing opposite of Anson Blake as their characters engaged in some verbal tussling.

As the scene ended, Chris made his way over to Rachel while Quinn disappeared towards the wardrobe trailer.

"Rachel?"

His other leading lady didn't answer, merely stared ahead with an interesting expression on her face. It was part concentration, part consternation, and Chris wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Knowing when to let it go, he tried to get her attention again.

"Rach?"

He scratched his head for a moment, pondering the best way to grab Rachel's attention. He smirked. "Rachel Berry, this is your places call. Places please for the top of Act One!"

Jerked from her ruminations, Rachel reacted unconsciously on habit and bolted upright, head swiveling wildly from side to side. "I'm ready, where's my mark? Breath spray, please!" She looked around in confusion when the scene before her was neither the backstage area of the Marquis Theatre that had housed _Millie_ nor the backstage area of the Ambassador Theatre where _Chicago_ performed. Instead, all she saw was Chris Keller's smirking face.

"Alright there?"

Rachel sighed, rubbing her temples. "Just fine, Chris."

Chris nudged his glasses up his nose with his index finger. The gesture was so him: unconscious and endearing in a totally dorky sort of way. "Are you sure? I know this shooting schedule isn't something you're used to."

Rachel giggled, her voice oddly pitched in an effort to sound normal. "Sure I'm sure, Chris. Why wouldn't I be?"

Chris cocked an eyebrow. "You're being weird, Rachel."

Rachel swelled up defensively. "Weird? I'm not being weird, who's being weird?" She sighed, ducking her head. "I'm being weird, huh?"

Chris's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. "Yeah. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Chris, I promise," Rachel assured him. "I've got a lot on my mind, that's all."

He nodded, respecting Rachel's decision to keep whatever was bugging her close. "Anything I can help with?"

Rachel shook her head. "No. It's a 'me' sort of thing."

He seemed to take that at face value. "Alright." Chris nudged his glasses up his nose again. "I don't mean to put more on your plate, but we made some changes to the schedule. Instead of waiting, we're going to do that first kiss scene between Sloane and Mia tomorrow. Will you be alright with that?"

"Of course," Rachel replied, nodding with a smile. She waited until Chris was gone before she rolled her eyes skyward. "Sweet Barbra, someone up there is having the time of their life…"

xxx-xxx-xxx

"CUT!"

Rachel looked up from her spot on the floor straddling Quinn. Chris approached them a frown on his face.

"Sorry, ladies, you guys are doing fine. I'm just not liking this dynamic." He waved to their positions on the floor. "I don't want this to be a domination sort of thing. This is something you guys are working through together, and how this works should reflect that."

He took a step back, rotating around the set. "Give me a minute to rework this for a second. I like the dialogue, I like the feel. Keep that intensity." He turned to the smaller of the two women. "Rachel, I like the slow build. Keep trying to rile Sloane up. The point is that you push her to that breaking point." He smiled at Quinn. "Quinn, same with you. Keep a very predatory sort of feel to it. Give me a moment, and I'll get back to you on some changes."

Rachel glanced down at Quinn, noting the blonde was huffing some pretty harsh breaths. "You alright? I slammed you pretty hard on that last one?"

"I'm a big girl, Rach," Quinn chided gently. "I can take it." She poked Rachel's sides, causing the brunette to squeak and squirm. Quinn bit her lip, fairly certain that move backfired, and she swallowed hard as she fully registered how close Rachel was pressed up against her. "Rachel?"

The other woman seemed lost in her own world. "Hmmm?"

Quinn gestured to their positions. "You, uh, want to get off me?"

Rachel's eyes widened, and she scrambled off Quinn. "Oh, sorry!" She held out a hand, helping the blonde to her feet.

"Whew," Quinn teased. "I thought I was going to be suffocated there for a second. Someone's been lax on their elliptical."

Rachel's eyes narrowed, but the smirk on her face indicated she hadn't taken offense to the dig. Still, hands were thrust upon hips, and a tiny foot stomped in indignation. "Quinn Lucas, I'll have you know, I take great care to ingest a diet catered towards an optimal healthy lifestyle. That, paired with a rigorous exercise regimen, puts me at an ideal weight for my size!"

Quinn couldn't help it; she started to laugh, loving the reaction she just wrestled from the little diva. Perhaps it was a bit mean, but she loved when Rachel went off on her indignant rants. Just yesterday, she remembered Anson being an unfortunate victim of Rachel's "ignominy of horse-drawn carriages" dissertation.

Chris smirked as he approached the two women, noting Quinn's highly satisfied smirk and Rachel's cross pout. "Do you two ever quit?"

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn they planned what happened next. Quinn and Rachel rotated to him. In unison, two heads tilted to the right then shook.

"No," Quinn answered first.

"Where's the fun in that?" Rachel finished.

"Like friggin' Phil and Lil," he muttered. Shaking his own head, he motioned to the script. "Alright, here's what we're going to do…" Chris outlined the plan, motioning to the various parts of the set. He looked to his leads. "Do you guys think you can go with that?"

Quinn nodded, eyeing Rachel. "I think so. Rachel looks fairly light today."

Rachel's mouth dropped open. She glared, smacking her costar on the arm. "Jerk!"

Quinn merely chuckled.

"One of these days, I'm seriously going to put you two in time out," Chris threatened.

"Oh, Christian, you wouldn't do that. You enjoy our witty repartee just as much as we do," Rachel teased as she flounced to her mark.

Quinn followed, pointing back at the brunette. "Yeah, man, what she said."

Chris threw his arms out wide, addressing everyone and no one at the same time as he made his way back behind the camera. "Seriously, who's the director here, again?"

* * *

><p><em>Sloane stormed into the barn in the backyard of the Gerard home, just past the tree where her punching bag hung. They hadn't used the structure in over a decade, and Sloane had commandeered the space in high school to serve as her safe haven away from the world. She never needed it more than she did today.<em>

_ The irate Marine paced back and forth, muttering under her breath. So many emotions ran through her mind that she found she couldn't just focus on one. Rage, hurt, annoyance, all of it seemed to blend together in a myriad that seemed to battle for dominance. She let out a frustrated growl, lashing out with a punch, the solid impact that would have occurred denied as her strike met thin air. Again and again, she struck out, her invisible foe another myriad, this time of faces. Again and again, she was denied the satisfaction of impact, her fists meeting with nothing._

_ Frustrated beyond all comprehension, Sloane sank to her knees, her hands dangling uselessly at her sides. She desperately wanted to cry, wanted to force the tears from her eyes, wanted to feel something other than this despair, this hopelessness. But none would come. Yet another satisfaction denied to her._

_ "Figured I would find you here."_

_ Sloane didn't look up. "Go away, Mia."_

_ "I don't think so." The doctor stood in front of the kneeling Marine, arms crossed over her chest. "That would be too easy to let you wallow in your self-pity."_

_ Sloane kept her eyes firmly fixated on the ground beneath her knees. She didn't want to see the pity in Mia's eyes. "I think I deserve it," she mumbled. "You saw what happened."_

_ "What I saw," Mia fired back, "was Sloane Gerard running away like a little bitch."_

_ That finally got the reaction she was waiting for as Sloane's eyes snapped to hers. _

"_Fuck. You," Sloane grit out. "You don't get it at all."_

"_Then explain it to me," Mia entreated._

"_You don't know what it's like," Sloane hissed. "Expected to be something, expected to fit the pretty picket fence package they put you it. You have no idea how hard I tried to be their All-American princess, marry the quarterback, have the two-point-five kids, be the perfect little housewife." Sloane hung her head. "I _tried_," she murmured, the anguish clear in her voice. "But I couldn't do it. Now they know why."_

"_Is it so bad they know?" Mia posed. "Is it really that awful that you're out to the town, even if you were forced out of the closet?"_

_Sloane's responding laugh was cold, derisive, and self-pitying. "Just another thing they can mock me for," she scoffed. "Sloane Gerard, the dyke of Greensborough."_

"_So you would have been content in the closet?" Mia challenged. "You would have hid this part of yourself from everyone?"_

"_Why not?" Sloane posed. "Military made me do it." _

"_You're wrong," Mia retorted. "Things have changed. You can be out if you want."_

"_Yeah, well, better in the closet then give them another reason why I don't fit in."_

"_Coward," Mia spat._

"_What?"_

"_You heard me." Mia advanced, placing herself into Sloane's personal space. She reached out, shoving the Marine back. "Fucking pussy ass _coward_."_

_Sloane bristled, clambering to her feet. "Don't test me, Doogie. You don't know shit."_

"_I know you're full of it, Sloane Gerard," Mia answered. "You're so desperate to fit in this little Greensborough bubble that you're willing to hid who you truly are. And that is BULLSHIT." Mia punctuated her rant with a sharp shove that sent the Marine stumbling backwards._

"_Alright, that's it." Sloane rolled up her sleeves. "You asked for it, Doogie."_

_Mia lofted her chin. "Bring it, Rambo."_

_Sloane stalked forward, shoving Mia back. "Insufferable know-it-all!"_

_Mia returned the shove. "Closet case poser!"_

_Sloane swiped at Mia, growling as the smaller woman ducked under the blow. "Self-righteous bitch!"  
>Mia kicked out with a high roundhouse that was blocked. "Insecure wannabe!"<em>

"_Why do you care?" Sloane yelled, huffing out a groan as her hook was parried, Mia wrapping an arm around her neck in a headlock. Sloane managed to kick a leg out, catching the back of Mia's knee, causing the brunette to buckle. Sloane squirmed out of the hold. "Why do you fucking care so much?"_

"_Because you're more than this," Mia grunted. She swung her leg around, swiping Sloane's ankle, sending the Marine tumbling down onto her back. "You deserve more than just half a life."_

_Sloane braced her hands over her head, flipping to her feet. "How do you know?" she growled, bearing down on Mia with wild swings. It was obvious her strikes were half-hearted. "What makes you so damn sure I deserve that, huh?"_

"_Because you mean something to me!" Mia roared. Moving deftly to the side, she parried the oncoming blow, wrenching Sloane's arm down and around her back in an arm bar. Mia drove her shoulder forward, forcing the Marine face-first against the barn wall with a resounding crash. She used her hips and forearm to pin Sloane there._

_ "You are better than this, Sloane Gerard. Do not let them define you."_

_ Mia's voice had softened to a plea. "Don't you get it? You don't fit in here because you're better than all of this. You're beyond this small town existence. You're beyond this version of the American Dream. That's not a bad thing."_

_ Mia released her hold, whirling Sloane around and shoving her back against the wall, holding her by the shoulders. _

_ "Embrace the difference because it means you've gone beyond and survived. Not only have you survived, you've thrived. You know you can go beyond these city limits and still be the same cool, calm, dashing Sloane Gerard."_

_ Mia's hold relaxed. Her eyes softened. "I really like that Sloane Gerard."_

_ Sloane's lips parted in shock as deep, hazel eyes rested on dark brown. She seemed to study Mia for a long time. Her chest rose and fell with her harsh, shallow breaths from the exertion. Mia swallowed hard, afraid she had gone too far when she found herself jerked forward into an embrace. She gasped, bracing her arms against Sloane's shoulders. That gasp transitioned sharply to a moan as Sloane's lips descended down, insistently capturing hers._

_ Mia's eyes fluttered shut as the sensations gripped her like a vice. Their kisses started slow, exploratory. They parted, eyes locked, and assurances passed before they succumbed to the carnal urge rushing between them, fueled by desperation and need. Their kisses quickened, dissolving into an immersion of pure, unadulterated emotion, building up rapidly to a crescendo. Neither seemed willing to yield, rushing steadily into this collision of mouths and bodies._

_It was a fight for dominance, a battle of wills over who was feeling more, who was willing to give more. Sloane growled low in her throat, flipping them around, boosting Mia up. The smaller woman let out a grunt, her back slamming against the unyielding barn wall. Long, tan legs winding around Sloane's hips. _

_Mia whimpered. It seemed as though everywhere she felt something, lips, hands, fingers. She let out a hiss as lips ghosted over her jaw line, latching onto her pulse point. She grunted, desperately trying to feel more, even as all senses threatened overload. A moan erupted low in her throat as Sloane's hand traversed the planes of her stomach, sneaking up her shirt to palm a breast._

"_Sloane…"_

_The sound seemed to startle the Marine back into the present, and Sloane abruptly let go, stepping back from Mia. Her eyes were wild, unfocused, and her hair was tousled and unkempt. She looked thoroughly ravished. _

_Sloane's mouth flapped open and shut comically, but no sound was emitted. A flush tainted her cheeks, the color a deep red._

"_I…I have to go."_

_Turning sharply, she fled the barn, disappearing out into the distance. Mia stared in the spot where the Marine once stood and sank to the ground, her head in her hands._

_ Oh, dear…_

* * *

><p>"CUT!"<p>

Rachel let out a shuddering breath, gasping for air as she continued to sit on the floor of the set. She closed her eyes, forcing her rapid heartbeat to calm. As she centered herself, her ears perked up, hearing the shuffling of footsteps indicating that Quinn had returned to the set.

"Get a hold of yourself, Berry," she chastised herself softly and clambered to her feet.

"Awesome!" Chris enthused. "Oh, I love those angles." He looked to his stars. "I think we're good, ladies. I think you guys are done for the day." He turned to the rest of the crew. "Let's set up for that next scene. Someone get Gordon and Ellen here if they're not already somewhere in the vicinity?"

"Good, awesome, yeah…" Rachel rambled as she retreated away with barely a backwards glance, her walk a tad too fast to be casual. Quinn was left with a strong sense of déjà vu.

As she stayed for a bit to compose herself, even as Rachel practically sprinted away, Quinn couldn't stop licking her lips. Brittany was right; Rachel's lady kisses really did taste like berries.

xxx-xxx-xxx

She kissed Quinn.

She kissed _Quinn_.

She.

_Kissed_.

Quinn.

Okay, technically Sloane kissed Mia, but those were Rachel Berry's lips on Quinn Lucas's. And Rachel Berry really, really liked it.

Weird?

Yeah.

Totally.

Dear Patti LuPone, now what?

She could hear a voice berating her, one that sounded eerily like Santana's. _For Christ's sake, Berry, get your shit together or I swear on all that is holy I will sit on you. I mean it this time._

She knew that technically, their kiss wasn't real, she knew that it was acting, yet she can't help but fixate on everything. Quinn's touch ignited something in her, set her aflame with a passion she hadn't felt in a long time, sparked the burning embers of arousal that reminded her of that first time. Pardon the pun, but it was hot.

Her mind whirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions, Rachel strode to her trailer, seeking solace so that she could properly process everything that just transpired. She frowned as she noticed her dog sitting on the steps of her trailer, growling at the closed door.

"Hugo? Honey, what are you doing out here?"

Hugo merely clambered to his feet, his teeth bared fiercely, and his growl intensifying.

Puzzled at her dog's weird behavior, Rachel merely frowned, intent on taking some time alone to ponder what was currently going on in her mind. She wrenched open the door, and her eyes widened in shock.

Oh.

My.

Bernadette Peters.

This wasn't what she had in mind when she said she wanted to christen her trailer with Brady. She had imagined herself as a participant, not a spectator. But seeing Brady's naked ass bobbing in the air, obviously on top of a woman she was fairly certain wasn't her, Rachel was decidedly not a participant in the sexual encounter currently transpiring on her couch.

"Oh my God, that freaking figures."

The two figures started, and Brady's wide, panicked eyes met hers as he and his tawdry affair scrambled to cover themselves at the intrusion. Brady nearly face-planted on the floor as he stumbled to his feet. "Rachel! This isn't what it looks like."

Rachel merely cocked an eyebrow. "I know you need a diagram most of the time, but I'm pretty sure I can suss this out on my own." Deciding she had neither the strength nor could muster up the effort to care, she simply raised her arm and pointed. "Out."

Brady approached her, arms held out in a conciliatory gesture, completely ignoring the blonde he had brought in with him. "Rachel, please. Let me…"

"I don't care," she cut him off, sidestepping his embrace. "Out."

Brady continued to protest and plead, making excuses trying to justify his behavior. Rachel rolled her eyes. With a strength garnered by both adrenaline and annoyance, she hauled both to their feet, shoving them out of her trailer and making a note to get the couch fumigated.

Brady pointed back to where his clothes were scattered on the trailer floor. "What about my…"

He trailed off as twin bolts of dark flame snapped in his direction. "You're fucking some bimbo in my trailer, on my movie set, when you're supposedly here to see me," Rachel pointed out. "No, you may not have your clothes. I will be burning them once I finish contemplating more pressing matters."

"Rachel, don't be ridiculous."

"What's ridiculous, Brady, is that you had neither the sense nor the foresight to take your dalliance somewhere I wouldn't so easily stumble upon you," Rachel mocked. She turned to the woman hovering at Brady's shoulder, equally naked and trying to preserve some sense of modesty despite the circumstances. She recognized the blonde as Lexie McMillan, a reporter from Broadway Buzzline, a basement-tier online blog that seemed to be geared more towards the drama than anything.

"Just a word of advice, honey," Rachel remarked to the busty fake-blonde, her tone deceptively sweet. "I wouldn't pursue acting as a career. Your imitation orgasm was subpar at best. Trust someone who knows from personal experience."

"Don't do this, Rachel," Brady warned. The threat lost its fervor with the desperation in Brady's voice. "You need me!"

Rachel swelled, puffing up with indignation, the glint dangerous in her dark eyes. "Excuse me? I need you? _I_ need _you_?"

Brady spluttered as Rachel's full-on Diva Mode grabbed his bluster and bravado by the balls and bitch-slapped it silly. The tiny woman loomed over him, lips twisted in a condescending sneer. This wasn't the wide-eyed ingénue who was just emerging onto Broadway that he had charmed and wooed. This was the veteran performer, the Tony-winner, and Broadway's most sought-after star. Needless to say, he was mercilessly outclassed.

"Need I remind you that one of us made a Broadway debut before she graduated college," she snapped, glaring down at him as though he were nothing more than shit on the bottom of her shoe. "One of us won a Tony award for said Broadway debut. One of us has never had to look for a job; jobs came to her. And one of us is now starring in a major motion picture after being personally invited on by the director." Rachel's eyes raked up and down his form. It was a clear dismissal. "The other one of us is currently unemployed."

Brady opened his mouth, trying to get a word in edgewise, but he was brutally shut down by a sharp look. When Rachel's Diva Mode was on a roll, nothing short of a nuclear disaster would stop her. The sneer adorning her face was downright vicious and might have had a bit of Santana in it.

"Now, between the two of us, it seems that one of us is a bit mistaken about their worth in this relationship. And newsflash, Brady Shaw…oh, excuse me Bartleby Schneider…it isn't me." Rachel slammed the door before another thought came to her, and she wrenched open the door again.

"And in case any of that was vague or ambiguous, I'm dumping you. We're done."

Quite thoroughly verbally put in his place, Brady resorted to begging once again. "Rachel, baby…"

He trailed off as a feral growl sounded. It wasn't one coming from a human. No, this one was canine-like in its timbre. He gulped as he found himself staring into a pair of fierce dark eyes, and he remembered quite forcibly ejecting Rachel's puppy from the trailer for his little sordid encounter. Hugo was practically vibrating with anticipation, quivering limbs and bunched muscle waiting on his mistress' signal. A twitch of Rachel's head, and Hugo bolted out of the trailer straight towards him, barking his furry little head off. Brady wasn't the brightest bulb but even he had enough sense to run when a vicious dog was chasing him. His girlish screams echoed through the lot.

Rachel moved towards the couch before thinking better of it. She changed course and sank down onto the chair in front of her vanity. The thrum of arousal still vibrated through her body from the roots of her hair all the way to the tips of her toes. It was only magnified tenfold with her heated confrontation.

Her mind drifted back to the scene, more specifically to everything that happened during those short minutes. Quinn's strength as she easily lifted Rachel and supported her weight, the delicious press of Quinn's body as it pinned hers against the barn wall, that intoxicating smell of whatever sweet and flowery perfume she always used, her strong, gentle hands with their slightly calloused fingertips, and Quinn's lips. God, her lips.

What the Joel Grey was she doing?

She was straight!

Right?

_Right_?

…Right?

Okay, there was a few times where she might have strayed to the other side of the fence, but she was drunk, and it was Puck's stupid Jenga game that made her do it. She always did believe sexuality was fluid, but her flow flowed more towards the penis end of things…literally.

The door to her trailer opened and Rachel bolted to her feet, ready to tear Brady a new one. She relaxed, sinking back to her chair when she saw it was Santana.

The Latina smirked, but Rachel could see it was half-hearted. "Was that Brady I saw running down the lot butt-ass naked and being chased by Hugo?"

Rachel nodded morosely. "I caught him with that bimbo from that online Broadway blog." She motioned towards the couch. "You might not want to sit on that."

"Ew," Santana commented. "Wait, the bimbo from Broadway Buzzline? Lexie McMillan? The one we don't like…like, at all? That's who was with him?"

"Yeah."

Santana seemed to fidget like a child scared of asking a question. "So…can I beat the shit out of him now?"

Rachel let out a feeble chuckle. "No, San. He's not even worth it."

"Well, _yeah_…but would make me feel better," Santana muttered, casting a dark glare in the direction she had seen the idiot last.

Rachel cocked her head, noticing the lack of Santana's better half. "Where's Britt?"

Santana's smirk grew downright evil. "Filming Brady's Naked Mile to the gates. I think I saw Anson with her. He's got his phone too, getting another angle. She wants to get a shot when he actually has to leave the studio. There are paps and reporters camped out all over outside the parking lot. She's already got some great shots of Lexie. There won't be any talking her way out of this one."

Rachel smiled feebly. "Have her send me a copy."

Santana eyed her closely. "You don't seem too torn up about Cheater McCheaterton doing the nasty in your trailer.

Rachel shrugged tiredly. "I've got other things on my mind."

"Like Quinn?"

Goddammit, was she really that transparent? Rachel sighed. "…Maybe."

"You booked it really quick after that kiss scene," Santana remarked. "You must have been pretty freaked out."

"I am," Rachel admitted. "Where is all this coming from?"

"You're attracted to her," Santana stated frankly. "So what?"

"I'm straight," Rachel argued.

"Bullshit," Santana countered. "You've done stuff with girls before." She pointed to herself. "Firsthand experience, remember? Besides, you're like the champion of fluid sexuality. Don't be a hypocrite now that it actually presents itself as an issue."

Santana perched herself atop the vanity. "What's really got you so wigged?"

"It's Quinn," Rachel answered meekly. "She's…_Quinn_. Even if this was a plausible situation, she's like Miss Unattainable."

Santana considered that point. "Okay, yeah, she's still got the Ice Queen thing going on and no one has really seen her with like anyone, so it's not like we can confirm if she's straight or not."

"See?" Rachel prompted.

Santana rolled her eyes. "You have got to stay up with the tabloids," she chided the smaller woman gently. "Look, it's still a possibility, though. There have been rumors that she actually might be gay, she's just very private about her sexuality. She's not closeted, she's discreet."

Rachel merely shrugged. "That doesn't mean anything, Santana," she insisted. "Every star has been accused of being gay at least once in their career."

"Are you afraid of being labeled a gay actress?"

Rachel look wholly offended. "No! Of course not! That would be highly hypocritical considering my fathers."

"Then what's the problem?"

Rachel shrugged. "If I do take this chance…" she eyed Santana shrewdly. "And that's a big if…I want to be certain that this could happen. I want to be sure that I won't be rejected."

"But isn't that like the very basis of love?" Santana posed. "Putting yourself out there and all that shit?"

When Rachel shrugged again, Santana cocked her head. "Look, Tiny, real up as usual. I just want you to be happy. No matter if it's with Eve or Steve and as long as it's never Finn or Brady. Quinn makes you happy. Would it really be that bad to just go for it?"

Rachel pondered that for a long while as Santana retreated to give her privacy.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel was still pondering Santana's remark when a knock on her trailer door sounded and Quinn stuck her head in.

"Hey."

Inadvertently, Rachel couldn't help but smile. "Hi."

Quinn gestured down to the Rottweiler squatted obediently at her feet. Hugo looked mightily pleased with himself…in an evil, 'I just did something bad' sort of way. "I brought back Hugo."

"Thanks." Rachel whistled, giggling as he bounded forward and leaped into her lap. She rubbed his head as he bestowed affection on her. "Good boy."

Quinn cleared her throat. "I, uh, heard about Brady."

Rachel shrugged, her fingers stilling as she scratched behind his ears. "It's whatever."

Quinn looked up at her through her unruly hair. "You want to talk about it?"

Rachel sighed, letting Hugo down as he squirmed in her lap. "I don't want to burden you."

Quinn smiled. "Friends aren't burdens."

Rachel eyed the blonde. "Sure, I guess." She stopped Quinn as the blonde moved towards the couch. "Don't sit on that."

Quinn's nose wrinkled as she realized the only reason why Rachel dissuaded her choice of seat. "Ew." She reached out, tugging on Rachel's hand. "Up."

Rachel frowned even as she stood. "Huh?"

Quinn moved around her, sank down on the chair, and tugged Rachel down to sit on her lap. Rachel stiffened as Quinn's arms wound around her waist. The pull of the tender touch surrounding her wormed through her defenses, and the brunette relaxed, melting into Quinn's embrace. She snuggled down, laying her head on Quinn's shoulder, relishing in the comfort even as her conflicting thoughts battered against one another. She shivered as she felt gentle fingers combing through her hair. She had to be a masochist. That was the only explanation for her subjecting herself to this torture. Because this was nice. Maybe a bit too nice…

"So what happened?"

"Found him fucking a reporter from one of those online Broadway blogs," Rachel answered.

"Bastard." Quinn's face twisted distastefully. "Kind of stupid, wasn't it? I mean, here of all places?"

Rachel nodded emphatically. "Right?"

"So then what happened?"

Rachel recounted the exchange, comforted by Quinn's fingers stroking her back. "Then he had the gall to say that _I_ needed _him_!"

"And you don't," Quinn defended.

"Naturally!" Rachel agreed. "I am more critically acclaimed, more financially successful, more universally adored." She puffed up indignantly. "I am a hot commodity, dammit!"

"And I don't doubt it," Quinn assured her.

Rachel deflated. "So why did he cheat on me?" Big brown eyes looked up at Quinn, the vulnerability shining in the depths. "I was a good girlfriend. I was very attentive, I wasn't crazy or obsessive – a trait that was detrimental to prior relationships, I should add – so why wasn't that enough?"

It broke Quinn's heart to see Rachel like this. All the blonde wanted to do was wrap the tiny diva up and shield her from all the bad stuff. She reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Rachel's face.

"Because he's an idiot," Quinn firmly declared. "He had the most amazing woman in his life, and he took you for granted. He saw you as a way to further his own career."

Rachel sighed. "I know I'm not the easiest person to deal with. I know I'm high-maintenance," she admitted. "I just want…I just want someone to think I'm worth the trouble…"

"Oh, sweetie," the endearment slipped effortlessly from Quinn's lips. "You're more than worth it. Brittany once said you were like a ray of sunshine, and she's right." Quinn pressed a comforting kiss to Rachel's hair. "The world's less brighter when you're sad."

"Brady didn't think so," Rachel grumbled. "He just saw me as his golden ticket to Wonka's chocolate factory."

"Brady cheated on you with a fake blonde with even faker tits," Quinn deadpanned. "Needless to say, I don't think he doesn't have the best judgment around."

Rachel cocked her head. "How do you know they're fake?"

Quinn shrugged. "Some people just do. Besides, I saw her running away from set. Normal boobs bounce; they didn't move. Like, _at all_. And her nipples are like Snow White's Seven Dwarfs; you name them based on their appearance. In her case, one's Perky, the other's Droopy."

Despite herself, Rachel snorted with laughter, tucking her face into the crook of Quinn's neck.

Quinn smiled softly at the sound. She drew her arms tighter around the diva. "You deserve better than him, Rachel."

Rachel's head bobbed up. "You're right, I do. Someone with my talent shouldn't be bogged down by the mediocre." Her features twisted with determination. "I deserve extraordinary!"

Quinn was the master of the death glare, but even she took a mental step back when Rachel stood up, her eyes flashing resolutely and determinedly. "Come on."

Quinn clambered to her feet, dutifully following Rachel. "Huh?"

"You and I are going to indulge in some therapy. And since I don't condone violence, this is as close as I'm going to get."

Quinn resisted the urge to scratch her head as Rachel gathered up the clothing strewn on her trailer floor in a plastic bag and rummaged around her trailer, plucking little trinkets from shelves and surfaces, shoving them into a separate bag. "Uh…okay…"

Rachel turned to the door and marched outside and in the direction of the props and special effects trailer where the prop master sat hunched over his work table, touching up one of their prop guns.

"Hey, Tom."

Tom jerked up in surprise. He looked to the source of the address and smiled, though he eyed the actress warily. He, like everyone, knew what had just happened and was unsure how their little diva was dealing with it all. "Uh…hi, Rachel."

"Do you by chance still have that lighter fluid we used for that fire scene a few days ago?"

"Uh, yeah, of course." He hesitated before asking. "Why? Because just so you know, I'm wholly against lighting people on fire."

Rachel lofted the two bags. "Burning bridges, so to speak. Not people, don't worry. If you would be so kind as to supervise?"

Tom chuckled. "Sure, Rachel."

By this time, a few of the cast and crew had gathered around to watch the festivities. Rachel didn't seem to mind. After all, the breakup itself had all been pretty public. Not many people had missed Brady's naked form bolting across the lot, Rachel's puppy literally nipping at his heels. Humming to herself, Rachel tossed down the clothes she had gathered from her trailer onto the ground. She upended the other bag, spilling the contents atop the pile. Finally, she withdrew a photo of Brady he had given her for something or other and dropped it derisively, a crowning item, so to speak. Grabbing the gasoline can from Tom, she doused the entire thing liberally. Still humming – Quinn was pretty sure it was the tune of Beyonce's "Irreplaceable" (oddly fitting) – Rachel accepted the proffered matches. An almost sadistic grin on her face, she struck a match, flipping it onto the saturated heap.

There was a sense of extreme satisfaction as the pile ignited with a rather impressive surge of flames.

Tom let everything burn for a bit before dousing the flames with a couple of spurts from the fire extinguisher. Rachel nodded her head. She forced a smile on her face and turned to the gathered crew. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go cry my eyes out."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn, Brittany, and Santana stood outside Rachel's trailer, all three of them staring dubiously at the closed door. Rachel had disappeared into the depths, Hugo in tow, and had been blasting sad music and breakup songs for about five minutes. They hadn't heard much other than the occasional sniffle, but it was still distressing for all three to know that Rachel was crying.

Quinn bit her lip, visibly anxious for her costar. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"Rachel?" Santana nodded. "Oh, yeah. She'll be fine. Give her another…" She looked down at her phone, noting the time. "Two minutes or so."

That was oddly specific. "Huh?"

"The time Rachel takes to get over relationships can be calculating by adding her general attraction to her significant other on a scale of one-to-ten, to her general satisfaction concerning intimate relations, again on a scale of one-to-ten, the sum of which is multiplied by the approximate duration of the relationship in years, taking into account her attachment to the significant other in question." Brittany recited absently, twirling a piece of hair around her finger.

Quinn did a double take. "Is she serious?"

Santana shrugged. "Sadly, yes. It's a tried and true formula. You see, Tiny rated Shaw as an eight on the general attraction scale, mostly because he was as close to her Broadway dream man as she had ever gotten. His only knock was his lack of ability to sustain critical high notes. But, he's shit in bed, so she rated him a three, I think. They dated for…" Santana paused, thinking about it for a second.

"Almost a year," Brittany supplied.

Santana nodded. "Yeah. You can do the math if you really want to."

"So?" Quinn was unsure of what that meant in terms of Rachel's state of mind concerning the break up.

"She'll get over it quickly." Santana assured the blonde. "Puck, on the other hand…"

Quinn's brows drew together. "Rachel dated Puck?"

Brittany nodded. "Yeah, for like three months before they realized it felt like weirdly incestuous…that's the word, right, San?"

"Yeah, baby," Santana answered with a smile. "And it was. Still, Rachel gave him a ten in attraction because, let's face it, Puck is a fine piece of ass. She also rated him a ten for sex. They only dated for three months, but you've seen how their relationship is."

"But she got over him?" Quinn surmised.

"Yeah. Mostly because it was pretty obvious they were just meant to be friends, no matter how hot the sex was between them."

All three pairs of eyes snapped upward as Rachel's trailer door flew open and a picture frame sailed out of the depths, smashing into a million pieces on the floor below.

Santana sighed, lofting her eyes to the heavens and thanking the greater powers that Rachel was done shooting for the day and no paparazzi were around to witness this breakdown.

"I'm gonna go check on her."

"Okay. Give her a big hug for me. I'll be there in a second." Brittany turned to Quinn. "Can I talk to you?"

The shorter blonde tilted her head, a bit unsure of what Brittany could possibly want. Still, she acquiesced. "Sure. Why don't we go to my trailer for some privacy?"

Brittany nodded happily. "Awesome."

Quinn smiled as Brittany skipped ahead, the taller blonde obviously knowing where her trailer was. She opened the door, ushering Brittany inside. Rachel's lithe personal assistant sunk down on the couch, turning big, blue eyes up to Quinn.

Quinn made herself comfortable, returning Brittany's gaze. "What's up?"

The other blonde frowned, seemingly in her own head. "You know, people think I'm stupid. Sometimes, I can blame the stuff I say on that. People overlook me, thinking I won't understand stuff. But I do. Sometimes I need to work it out in my own way."

Quinn's brows drew together. The opening was random, yet so Brittany. She knew Brittany had a unique way of thinking, but never to the point people would so blatantly disregard her. "I'm sorry people think that."

Brittany waved off her concern. "No, it's okay. When people overlook me, they forget I'm there, and I get to see stuff that other people might miss. It's how I figured out you're a dolphin."

Quinn had to admit the blonde was very perceptive. She was open but discreet about her sexuality in deference to her privacy standards.

Brittany cocked her head. "You know how Rachel and I became friends?"

Quinn shook her head. She admitted she was curious how that particular friendship came about.

"In middle school, she defended me against a bully. He called me retarded, and she stood up for me." Brittany smiled at the memory. "She even kicked the crap out of the guy. He was huge too."

Quinn smiled at the visual. A tiny Rachel Berry against the big, bad bully.

"You know, Rachel's one of the few people who really get me," Brittany remarked. "I think it's because she takes the time to really listen and understand. And she's super patient. She doesn't make me feel stupid for not getting stuff right away. She asks questions but not the mean type." Brittany cocked her head knowingly. "That's how she got you to open up, huh?"

Quinn nodded. "Yeah. No one took the time to get to know me. They just saw the Ice Queen and never bothered."

Brittany mirrored the nod. "Yeah, same. They just saw the ditzy blonde and figured I was stupid." She shrugged. "It's okay, though. You really only need one person to totally get you, right?"

Quinn smiled, thinking how much more content she was now that Rachel had insight to the facets of her personality she normally hid from everyone else. "Yeah. You do."

"Because when one person gets you, they can explain it to everyone else," Brittany commented sagely. She straightened, looking intently at Quinn.

"Alright, so this is me being like totally serious because I love Ray like a sister if my sister was like pocket-sized and super loud. She may be really smart about other people's feelings, but she can be really stupid about her own. That's why she dated a guy in high school that was like Godzilla height to her itty-bitty person like in the movie." Brittany cocked her head. "Come to think of it, he liked to smash things too…" She shook her head, bringing herself back to the point she was making. "Anyway, he was kind of a butthead and didn't treat her right. He fed her animals when you know how she is about that whole thing."

Quinn nodded, knowing how strict Rachel was concerning her vegan diet – although the brunette definitely made a concession to ice cream once in a very long while.

"Look, the thing with Ray is that you gotta be super patient with her because she's still trying to understand what the flutters in her stomach mean. I know she's a dolphin, I know you've been a dolphin for awhile, and I know you totes want in on Ray's sweet lady kisses, but you gotta let her figure it out on her own."

Again, Quinn nodded solemnly.

"She's super confused right now because you're making her feel all weird inside and she doesn't know why. It's like when you're doing a puzzle and you've got almost all the pieces, but you're missing a few so the picture doesn't look right? That's where Ray's at. She's put together the puzzle, and it looks like something, but she's not sure what because she's missing some important pieces. She just has to find them so she gets to see the whole picture."

Brittany eyed Quinn closely, her bright blue eyes acutely perceptive. "Do you get me?"

Surprisingly, Quinn completely did. She couldn't help but be grateful to Brittany for providing this rather helpful insight. It gave her hope in a way nothing else did. She nodded. "Yeah, Britt. I get you."

Brittany smiled brightly. "Awesome. Just so you know, I'm totally rooting for you. You make Ray like supernova shiny. It's cool. Lotsa pretty colors."

She cocked her head as though she heard something in the distance. "I gotta go. Ray's done crying. Now she needs to go drink away her sad tears. That's the next step in the process. Don't be surprised if you get like a page-long super drunk text." Brittany bounced to her feet, wrapping her arms around the shorter blonde. "See you, Quinn!"  
>Quinn chuckled. "Bye, Britt."<p>

As Brittany flounced down the steps of Quinn's trailer, dancing to a beat in her head, Quinn couldn't help but smile. She didn't care what anyone else thought. Brittany-Freaking-Pierce was a genius.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Once they hit the weekend a couple of days later, Rachel really did seem to be over her disastrous breakup with Brady. As expected, Broadway Buzzline had run a particularly scathing article about Rachel's breakup filled with rather inaccurate details that bordered on slander, and no one had been surprised to see that Lexie McMillan's name adorned the byline. What had been more amusing was the backlash from multiple firsthand reports from many more reputable sources refuting the facts stated in the article – which painted Brady as a victim to an overbearing, narcissistic diva – not to mention the countless videos that had surfaced showing the confrontation in nearly its entirety. Rachel still was unsure how those found their way to the mass media. Needless to say, Broadway Buzzline posted an apology for the gross misinterpretation of the facts and noted that Lexie McMillan was no longer employed at the blog. Despite that win, Rachel had to believe that this wasn't the last she was going to hear about the subject.

Currently, she was lounging on her freshly fumigated couch, Hugo's head on her lap, during a break. She glanced up, smiling as Quinn stuck her head in the doorway.

"Hey."

Hugo jumped up, loping to the blonde, barking as he recognized his favorite person besides his mistress. Quinn wrestled with him for a bit, kissing the top of his head before turning her attention to Rachel.

"Hey."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I see how it is. The dog takes precedence."

Quinn shrugged. "Sorry. He's cuter."

Rachel narrowed her eyes playfully. "If you're here just to insult me, you can leave," she deadpanned.

Quinn grinned. "So sensitive." She laughed as she dodged the thrown cushion. "I just wanted to know if we're still on for this weekend."

Rachel's face fell as she remembered Quinn had offered her house for a small party to watch Noah's playoff game. "Oh, Quinn, I totally forgot. I don't know if I'm up for it."

"Come on, Rachel," Quinn refuted, shaking her head. "You need this more than ever. You need to be surrounded by your friends and people you care for."

"Please?"

"Now that's just unfair."

That exchange was how Rachel, Brittany, and Santana, with Hugo and Reno in tow, found themselves knocking at Quinn's door loaded with supplies bright and early Saturday morning. Rachel's über-meticulous mind assigned tasks to everyone and they got Quinn's place ready for the party. After a few false-starts on the grill ("Chill, chicas, I gots this." "San, I don't think–" "_Hijo de puta_!" "Dear Patti, San, I know you've threatened to light me on fire, but I never thought you'd actually try it." "Shut it, Streisand…do I still have both my eyebrows?"), they had meat and grilled vegetables sizzling on top and even a separate section for Rachel's veggie burgers, just in time for their guests.

As Quinn's house gradually began to fill, Rachel was in her element, playing co-hostess, milling with her friends and connecting with the new people Quinn invited. When their guests had first started to gather, she had grabbed Quinn by the hand, steering the blonde around to meet her friends. Most of them were like her, Broadway implants trying to broaden their careers. A few were strictly theatre people who operated out of the small but growing LA theatre community. Quinn had actually recognized a couple of them, some had appeared as extras or in guest spots for _Queen of Babble_.

Quinn was filling up a chip bowl when she heard Rachel squeal happily, flinging her arms around a brown haired man. She couldn't see his face, only the back of his head, but it was obvious Rachel held this man in high regard.

"Quinn, I want you to meet my good friend Jesse St. James."

Quinn's smile froze on her face as she looked into the familiar blue eyes as Rachel dragged the elder man towards her. Of all the times she thought she was going to see a blast from the past, right here in her own living room was far from the scenario she envisioned. At Carmel, the members of Vocal Adrenaline were veritable deities in the social spectrum, and Jesse St. James was their Zeus. Unlike the jocks and cheerleaders who lived to pick on the basement-dwellers of the hierarchy, Jesse simply ignored those he deemed unworthy. He wasn't mean but he also didn't go out of his way to be nice, either. Therefore, losers like Lucy Fabray were invisible to him. That was fine with her. Rather invisible than stuffed in a locker…

Jesse smiled, holding out a hand. "Miss Lucas, a pleasure."

Quinn returned the smile. "Quinn, please."

"Ah, then you must call me Jesse." Jesse's brows drew together, his blue eyes searching hers. "You know, watching you on TV, I never really realized it, but seeing you up close…" Jesse frowned. "I feel like I've met you before."

Quinn tensed, but didn't show her discomfort. She had much practice with keeping her emotions in check and undetectable. She schooled her features to a neutral look tinged with curiosity. "I'm sure I'd remember you if we'd met before."

"No, you're right." Jesse waved a hand. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable…"

Quinn waved a hand. "No, it's fine."

"I should do this before Rachel comes back and boxes my ears, but if you ever think about doing theatre, give me a call." Jesse held out his hands as Quinn opened her mouth. "I know, I know, that sounds a bit pretentious, but I might have a part that would interest you." He shrugged. "I like your work. I think you'll really be validated as an artist if you dabble in live theatre. Just a thought."

Quinn nodded "I'll think about it." As Jesse disappeared back into the party, she couldn't help but stare after him. Maybe she wasn't as invisible as she thought…

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn's house had never been livelier. Every inch of the sprawling grounds held anything an intrepid football fan would need for the playoff game. Quinn had opened up the screen doors leading out to the deck where the hot tub was open, the bar was stocked – Declan had appointed himself bartender – and the grill was sizzling with a variety of meats and their vegan alternatives and even a few vegetable skewers. Bowls of chips and dip and snacks covered the counters of the kitchen, and the huge television in the living room fed sheer energy from surround-sound system. Fresh from the divisional playoffs, Puck's Chargers faced off against the top-seeded Indianapolis Colts for a bid to the Super Bowl.

The atmosphere was highly festive as Rachel and Quinn's friends mingled with one another, Broadway melding with Hollywood, trading stories about their respective industries. The moment the pregame show began its broadcast, the entire group gathered in the living room where they fit comfortably, staring at Quinn's massive television.

_Here is the Hit Man, Noah Puckerman, making his way into Lucas Oil Stadium. His smash-mouth, aggressive style of football will be the biggest threat to the Colts' offense._

Everyone cheered as the camera panned over Puck in a dapper gray suit and navy blue tie as he made his way to the visiting team's locker room. He had his game face on, playoff stubble in full force. Quinn grinned as she caught a glimmer of a gold star pin adorning the left lapel of Puck's suit jacket.

Quinn chuckled, motioning to the pin. "Did you give that to him?"

Rachel nodded with a grin. "Yup! Right before the draft. Now it's one of his many good lucky charms. You know how superstitious athletes can be."

_He will definitely be a factor. Noah Puckerman is so versatile in that he really does do it all: he can stop the run, he can cover that flat, and he's a very, very good tackler. Once he has you wrapped up, you're going down. The Chargers are going to have that middle locked up._

"Fuck yeah, they are!" Santana hollered at the television. "My boy Puck is serving up a grass casserole with a side helping of whup-ass!"

Jesse chuckled, sipping his beer as he gestured to Santana. "I missed that. When's she gonna start speaking Spanish?"

Rachel laughed. "Not until the game actually starts."

"Oh no," Santana groaned suddenly. "He brought back the 'hawk…"

"He what?"

Rachel's eyes snapped to the screen, and sure enough, a familiar haircut adorned the top of Puck's head. It wasn't the traditional Mohawk he had rocked in high school. He had arranged the longer hair on top of his head into the distinct skyward point that ran down the center of his scalp before the sides tapered down to his closer-cut hair. It was stylistically more of a faux-hawk than anything, but it was still bordered on ridiculous just like it did in high school.

Rachel shook her head. "His mom is gonna freak…"

_They have been two of the best teams in the AFC this year. The Colts and the Chargers. The Colts earning the right to host this championship game today as the AFC's top seed here at Lucas Oil Stadium. The winner goes to the Super Bowl. _

The camera panned over to the Chargers idling at the visitor's tunnel. Puck looked like a rabid dog as he stood at the head of his white-jerseyed team. Rachel beamed, spying the captain's patch affixed to the right breast of his jersey. She knew how proud he was to be named one of the team captains, an honor he had been denied at McKinley in favor of Finn Hudson (for what reason, they were trying to figure out almost ten years later). It seemed almost ironic to Rachel. The "star" of McKinley's team was the Golden Boy, freely given everything: the captainship, his quarterback position, all without truly trying hard. Puck, on the other hand, had to work for his spoils; and the bounty he had reaped was the product of good, hard work. No one had ever expected Noah Puckerman to make it out of Lima. He had told him all to suck it. It was why the tiny little patch meant so much to him. He was more than just one of the stars of this professional team. He was pone of their leaders. Puck and the other two captains led the team out of the tunnel, seemingly grinning as the boos sounded from inside Lucas Oil Stadium.

The camera circled around the Charger's bench where Puck was firing up the defense. She wasn't sure what as he rotated around the huddle, but she was certain there were quite a few swear words interspersed around the general message of "maim" and "kill."

San Diego won the toss and deferred the kickoff to the second half. The group cheered as the teams lined off for the kickoff, and the announcers voices sounded through the speakers.

_The battle for the AFC Championship is right here. Let's go down to Steven Towson on the sidelines._

The camera panned over to a man standing just behind the Charger's bench and holding a microphone. Behind him, the Charger bench bustled, taking care of some final pre-game tasks.

_Guys, I talked to the Hit Man, Noah Puckerman, before the game and asked him what it's going to take to stop this explosive Indianapolis offense. His answer? Pretty simple. "Hit them so they don't get up."_

That comment drew a roaring shout from the group in Quinn's living room as the Charger faithful in the room, cheered for their favorite players. Quinn looked in amusement as Rachel, Santana, Brittany, and a few of their friends raised their arms up, fingers wiggling, humming lowly as the San Diego kicker jogged towards the ball. As the kicker's foot impacted with the ball, they thrust their arms down and punched a fist in the air.

"WHOO! GO CHARGERS!"

Declan chuckled, looking to his best friend. "They just get more hilarious every day."

_Branson takes it out of the endzone, smeared by the Santos. Indianapolis to start at their own eighteen, and let's meet the defensive starters for the Chargers._

Puck trotted out on the field, leading the way to the huddle. They were a massive bunch, very intimidating as they took the field. Those unfamiliar with Rachel, Santana, and Brittany when it came to their football eccentricities could only watch with amusement as they went through one of their ridiculous dances.

Declan nudged Quinn again. "Seriously, most hilarious trio ever."

xxx-xxx-xxx

As the game began, it was clear that the contest would be featuring everything they could have possibly wanted in a playoff game: Big hits, big plays, and a whole lot of excitement.

_Second down and eight for San Diego. Moore out of the shotgun. Two tight ends, one receiver spread. Matthews with him in the backfield. The snap…Five step drop, Moore going long!_

Santana surged to her feet, hollering at the top of her lungs. "¡_Cachala, cachala_! ¡_Cachala, hijo de puta_!"

There was a collective inhale as the ball spiraled down towards the receiver wrapped up in double coverage. All three players jumped, the white jersey sandwiched between two royal blue ones.

_Jump ball! Falls incomplete. Third and eight._

There was a collective groan as the ball fell harmlessly to the turf.

"_Ay Dios mio_," Santana mumbled. "¿_Quien les enseño a jugar a estos idiotas_?"

"Don't worry, San," Britt assured her lover. "There's gonna be a big gain on the next play. San Diego's gonna run it, and the Colts are looking for the pass. Look, they're in Cover 3. The Colt's strong safety will never be able to catch Matthews."

There was a mixed reaction at that statement, but sure enough, the Chargers handed the ball off to Gabriel Matthews, their star running back.

_Matthews up the gut, finds the hole! Oh, big block from Knoxville! And there he goes! Forty, thirty five, thirty…down to the twenty, fifteen. Finally downed at the twelve. Huge run for Gabe Matthews. First and ten at the twelve!_

"Dude," Rachel stated to the general group. "Never doubt the Britt Vibe."

"Is she like psychic?" Quinn's costar Pierce Olivier asked, nodding to Brittany.

Quinn laughed. "No, but it sure seems like it."

All throughout the game, it had been a defensive battle with neither offense being able to gain much ground. Puck had been completely on fire, closing up the middle, completely halting the run game, and even harassing the quarterback every so often. However, late in the third quarter, the Colts had marched down the field into Charger territory and were threatening to score.

_Critical third down here for Indianapolis._

The camera moved over to Puck as he approached the line of scrimmage, barking out to his fellow defenders. He moved up behind the nose tackle, whispering something into the man's ear before backing up to his position.

The quarterback whirled, handing the ball off to his running back. Just when it seemed as though there was a shred of daylight up the middle, Puck charged forward, driving the running back into the ground, well short of the first down.

_Oh! Stuffed at the line by the Hit Man!_

_That hole closed up real quick._

The room exploded in hoots and hollers as Puck stood up and celebrated his tackle with a slashing motion with both hands before breaking into a short Dougie dance. He leaped, banging shoulders with another one of the defensive linemen as he trotted off the field and the special teams unit came on.

xxx-xxx-xxx

San Diego led 28-24 at the two-minute warning in the fourth quarter. The Puckerman contingent back in Quinn's living room were showing their own fatigue. The game had been remarkably back and fourth with a handful of lead changes, and the Colts had the ball and a full field to cover. A long bomb and a couple of run plays marched Indianapolis downfield to a first and goal with time winding down.

"Jeeze," Santana groaned, flopping down on the couch with another beer at a timeout. "Football is not good for the health."

Rachel shot out a wry smirk as she plopped down beside Quinn, handing the blonde a beer. "Yeah, and screaming at the television set helps _so_ much."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Would be better if the friggin' San Diego offense would pick it up a bit."

Quinn nodded her agreement, running her fingers through Rachel's hair as the brunette lay against her shoulder.

"Game's back on," Declan warned them, pointing to the television.

Everyone perked up and gathered around the big screen as Indianapolis took their places at the line of scrimmage. There was an intensity in the movement. Both lines facing off, muscles bunched like a pack of dogs waiting to be unleashed. The clock showed five seconds left, just enough time for one more play. Puck paced just behind the defensive line, a caged animal ready to pounce.

_This is it. Fourth and goal. The ball is on the one. A field goal will not do it for the Colts. They need this touchdown._

The entire living room looked as though they were on the edge of a cliff, ready to tumble over. The entire season came down to this final play.

"_Que no anoten, Dios. Que no anoten…"_ Santana mumbled over and over as she clasped her hands over her mouth.

_Handoff, Griffith leaps, Puckerman there to meet him…NO! No gain, no touchdown! The Chargers are going to the Super Bowl!_

"YES!"

Quinn's living room exploded in chaos, as the entire group celebrated. Rachel jumped onto Quinn's back, squealing as the blonde twirled her around in circles.

"_¡En tu cara! _¡_En tu puta cara, imbecil!_" Santana roared as she jumped up and down, throwing her arms around Brittany in celebration. "In your fucking face!"

Puck scrambled away from the pile, sprinting out to the middle of the field. His celebration dance had never been more fitting than right at that moment as he was mobbed by the rest of his teammates.

Puck broke through the throng of his celebrating teammates and raced to the sideline behind the San Diego bench where a group of Charger fans were stationed, a camera hot at his heels. He reached out, bringing a gorgeous blonde down from to stand in front of him. Her hands in his, he descended down on one knee. No one knew what he was saying exactly, but the gesture was pretty obvious, her answer even more so when she nodded frantically, leaping into his arms.

Santana halted mid-sentence, and her eyes went wide. "Did he just?"

Rachel's arms froze against Quinn's neck, and she nodded numbly. "Uh-huh."

"Did you…?"

Rachel's head swung from side to side in the negative. "Nuh-huh."

"His mom is going to _kill_ him," Brittany commented idly, completely nonchalant as though Puck hadn't just proposed to some mystery woman on national television. She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger. "You think he'll let us be in his wedding party?"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Puck sat down in the chair in front of his locker in the mostly clear locker room, completely drenched in champagne, a championship cap perched on his head. He booted up his computer and pulled up a Skype window and initiated a call to his favorite ladies. His eyes widened as he saw three faces squeezed into the small screen. They didn't look too happy. He shot out a charming grin.

"Uh, you guys catch the game?"

"Oh yeah, of course," Santana started.

Rachel nodded. "Found it very interesting at the end."

Brittany grinned widely. "You gots some 'splainin' to do, Puckerman…"

"Guys, I was going to tell you about her…"

"Bullshit, Puckerman! You were just too much of a pussy to subject her to the test," Santana challenged. "I wouldn't have been surprised if the first time we met her was at the wedding!"

"Look, it was a spur of the moment thing!" Puck protested. "I don't even have a ring or anything…" He scratched his head. "Well, yet."

"Tell us you've at least been dating her for over six months," Rachel interjected.

"And that the next story we hear isn't you eloping to Vegas," Santana cut in.

"Eight," Puck affirmed. "I know this is crazy and frankly, I'm a bit scared for my life between you three, Mom, and Ruthie, but I'm in love with her. I can't explain it."

The three girls exchanged a look. Puck was extremely hesitant to admit anything beyond attraction to a woman.

"Well, tell us about her," Rachel grunted reluctantly. It was a concession of sorts.

"And don't tell us she's a cheerleader," Santana warned him.

"NO!" Puck protested. "That's like against league rules. She's one of the Charger Girls' sister."

Brittany clapped. "Are we going to meet her?"

"Yeah, once I get back to San Diego. You can give her the third degree all you want."

Rachel's eyes narrowed dangerously. "She's coming over for dinner," she cast a glance in Quinn's direction, receiving confirmation with a nod, "Quinn's hosting, and we are going to get to know your girl–"

"Brooklyn," Noah supplied.

"Brooklyn very well," Rachel finished. Again, his three best friends exchanged looks. Rachel spoke for the group, albeit reluctantly. "If she makes you happy, Noah, you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel and Quinn sat beside each other on the sofa of Quinn's living room, now devoid of all people. The two starlets passed a bottle of Patron Silver between them. Some random television show or other played on the screen. They weren't watching it. It was just white noise to them. Hugo, Charlie, and Reno lay in a heap beside them, a tangle of fur and limbs. Their humans were well on their way to getting drunk. Said humans weren't sure why, but the festivities of the day drove them both to the tequila.

"That was eventful."

Rachel hummed her agreement, taking a pull. "I can't believe Noah proposed. He hasn't had a steady girlfriend since…well, me!"

Quinn smirked, nudging Rachel's foot. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

"No," Rachel mumbled, returning the nudge.

Quinn persisted, knocking Rachel's foot again. "Are too."

Rachel scowled, knocking Quinn's foot back. "Am not."

"Liar," Quinn retorted, taking a drink.

"Alright, a bit," Rachel admitted. "I've always been his best girl. Now he has someone else. We haven't even met her. I'm being replaced by some…faceless no-name."

"We actually did see her face," Quinn corrected. "She was kind of hot."

"Not helping."

"Sorry." Quinn smiled softly, leaning back against the couch. "I think you're always gonna be his best girl," she assured the brunette.

"It's stupid, I know, but everyone's paired off, and I'm…" Rachel sighed. The tequila was really starting to get to her. She was rambling. Still, she took a long pull from the bottle. "Stuck in a fantasy. Brady was supposed to be everything. He was a perfect leading man. He was…" Rachel thought of a proper analogy. "The Taye to my Idina."

"Maybe you're looking in the wrong fairytale," Quinn offered. She held her liquor a bit better, but they had all drank a good amount before, during, and after the game. "Maybe instead of looking at Prince Charming, you should be looking at Shrek."

"So I'm supposed to be looking for an ogre?" The confused look on Rachel's face was priceless.

"No," Quinn laughed softly. "I mean you should look outside the norm. Don't be so fixated on finding your leading man. Just find someone who makes you happy, regardless if that person fits the criteria of the Fiyero to your Elphaba or the Tony to your Maria or the…Marius to your Cosette."

Rachel beamed. "I'm impressed. You've been doing your research."

Quinn chuckled. "Anyone can Google."

Rachel frowned thoughtfully. "Although I feel as though I should note that many fans of _Les Miz_ believe that Cosette stole Marius from Eponine, a much more deserving character. I personally believe that given the chance to possibly portray a role in _Les Miz_, I would prefer to play the role of Eponine. 'On My Own' is a wonderfully heart-wrenching song, and Eponine's death is quite a visually stunning moment of drama."

"How is it that you can still talk in paragraphs even while drunk?"

"It's inn…inn…inna…" Rachel gave up, tripping over the double consonants. "That word that means I can't help it."

Quinn waved a hand, buzzed off of all the alcohol and the wonderful company that had filled her normally empty home.

Rachel leaned her head back against the cushion. "I'm tired. And drunk."

"Come on," Quinn tugged on Rachel's hand. "Let's get you to bed."

"'Kay." Rachel allowed herself to be led up to Quinn's room. The other guest rooms were filled by Brittany and Santana, Declan, and Jesse.

Quinn tossed her some clothes, turning down the bed and letting Rachel lie down. As she turned to leave, she felt a tug at her hand.

"No."

"Huh?" Quinn wasn't sure her words weren't slurred.

"You stay here," Rachel mumbled. At Quinn's hesitancy, she pulled more insistently. "Come on."

Quinn dropped her pants and changed into her own bedclothes, her exhaustion overriding any modesty issues. She shoved at Rachel. "Scoot over."

Rachel sighed as she felt the weight of Quinn's body join her. She knew this wasn't the most prudent decisions, but she needed someone with her, and Quinn was optimal company. "Tell me you're not a bed hog."

A muffled chuckle sounded from beside her. "As long as you don't snore." Quinn paused. "You sure okay with this?"

Rachel nodded blearily. "Knowing you, you'll insist on being chivalrous and take the couch. As big and as comfy as it is, that couch is not conducive to a good night's sleep. We can share."

"'Kay," Quinn mumbled, too tired to argue. She felt her hand tugged once again and followed the pull. Rachel drew her arm around her waist, snuggling back into the blonde's front. The tiny brunette sighed happily.

"'Night, Quinn."

Quinn smiled to herself. "'Night, Rachel."

xxx-xxx-xxx

The next morning, Rachel's internal clock awoke her, and she moved at the sensation of a blinding, shining sun peeking through the window. Immediately, she noticed how comfortable she was in her current location. She was warm and surrounded by something that smelled sweet. Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she popped her head up and looked up into a very familiar face. Well, that made sense. The sweet smell was Quinn's perfume that seemed to be everywhere, and her soft pillow was Quinn's breast. She froze, taking in her position. In sleep, she had turned into Quinn and was now lying half on top of the slumbering blonde, her face buried into the upper swell of Quinn's breast. For her part, Quinn had rolled onto her back, her left arm slung over Rachel's waist, her right sprawled slightly over her head. Rachel vaguely remembered insisting the blonde stay with her rather than retreating to the couch.

She sighed, not really wanting to leave the warmth of the bed and the comfort of Quinn's embrace no matter how shrilly her inner voice berated her. She took a moment to study Quinn in this moment of sheer vulnerability. The blonde's face was peaceful in her rest, relaxed. She looked younger, more innocent, and a far cry than the cold Ice Queen she usually portrayed. Although, Rachel wasn't too sure if that moniker applied. At least not when it came to her. She was privy to a side of Quinn not many people were aware of, and it was humbling to think that the blonde placed that much trust in her, despite the short time they had been acquainted.

It simply wasn't fair, Rachel decided, and not for the first time, that Quinn was so effortlessly gorgeous. The flawless skin, the full, luscious lips, those penetrating eyes hid behind closed lids. She laughed silently at the disheveled state of Quinn's short hair as it lay on their shared pillow. She loved it when it was like this, fluffy and wild, literally like a lion's mane. Her fingers itched to run through the strands she knew from experience were silky soft.

Rachel took in her costar with a fond expression on her face. Something caught her eye, and she cocked her head, noticing one more tattoo inked into the inside of Quinn's right wrist. It was a gold star. She smiled, gently reaching up to trace the shape along with the text stating, "Shine brighter." It looked like she wasn't the only one who had a thing for gold stars. Vaguely, Rachel wondered about the story behind the tattoo. It certainly wasn't fresh, but it mirrored one of the lines of her infamous Gold Star Metaphor story. In fact, it was almost verbatim from her story, but there was no way Quinn had heard that particular anecdote before.

The movement made Quinn stir, and she pulled Rachel closer, burying her nose in the brunette's hair. Rachel watched with amusement as Quinn's nose wrinkled in confusion, and the gorgeous hazel orbs were revealed to the world. Quinn blinked owlishly, taking a moment to reorient herself.

"Good morning?" It was more a question than a greeting, but oh was that sleep-heavy voice sexy.

"Morning," Rachel returned.

Quinn groaned, slapping a hand over her face as she flopped onto her back. "Oh, Patron wasn't a good choice."

Rachel giggled softly. "Well, at least I kept my clothes on this time."

Quinn snorted. "I'll try harder next time..." she halted, nose sniffing. A delighted smile split her face, and she bolted from the bed. "BACON!"

Bemused, Rachel followed at a more sedate pace. Sure enough, as they entered the kitchen, they found a platter of bacon already on the island and being devoured by the group of people already up. Jesse and Declan were both on their way out, Declan stating he had a meeting he had to get ready for, and Jesse claimed he had an interview in a few hours. Brittany and Santana were posted up on the island and digging into the spread, Santana poring over the morning paper.

The group exchanged greetings, and Rachel slid in beside Quinn.

"Who cooked?"

Brittany pointed over to Santana with a grin. "Recipes confuse me, Ray, we've been over this."

Any other conversation halted as Rachel's phone blared from the coffee table where she had left it the night before.

_Long live the walls we crashed through_  
><em>All the kingdom lights shined just for me and you<em>  
><em>I was screaming long live all the magic we made<em>  
><em>And bring on all the pretenders<em>  
><em>One day, we will be remembered<em>

"Poppa's a closet Taylor Swift fan," she offered as explanation. Accepting the call, she brought the phone to her ear. "Hi, Pop!" Rachel's cheerful smile faded and her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of her father's rambling through the phone. "Pop, slow down."

The phone slipped from her fingers, and Rachel's knees buckled beneath her. Only quick reflexes from Quinn saved the tiny brunette from crashing to the floor.

"Rachel! Rachel, what's wrong?"

Rachel's face had paled and her breaths came in sharp gasps. "Daddy…shot…"

* * *

><p><strong>Spanish Translations, once again thanks to Azuri-chan!:<strong>

_Ay Dios mio, asi mamita: _Oh my God, like that hot mama.

¡_Cachala, cachala_! ¡_Cachala, hijo de puta_!: Catch it, catch it! Catch it, son of a bitch!

_Ay Dios mio. _¿_Quien les enseño a jugar a estos idiotas_?: Oh my God. Who taught these idiots how to play?

_Que no anoten, Dios. Que no anoten…_: Don't let them score, God. Don't let them score...

__¡En tu cara! _¡_En tu puta cara, imbecil!__: In your face! In your fucking face, asshole!

* * *

><p><em>DUN, DUN, DUN! I know, I know…wtf? But I had to do it. Up next, Rachel and company make their way back to Lima with Quinn in tow. We meet the Dads Berry, Shelby, and a few people from Rachel's past make an appearance to help her with her confusing feelings about Quinn.<em>

_I hope you liked Brady's exit! He will return soon, however, to continue stirring the pot but will people listen?_

_I know if feels like, but in my land where you suspend disbelief, they have gone through a few takes, and you guys get the one they eventually print, lol. Just to make it a bit more realistic…_

_And the songs featured in this chapter were "Ride It" by Ciara featuring Ludicris, and "Long Live" by Taylor Swift. See you guys next time! You know the drill..._

*ISP


	10. Chapter 9

_So TPTB have stated that Hiram and Leroy Berry are Jeff Goldblum and Brian Stokes Mitchell. Sigh…I so wanted Barrowman to happen, but I'm pleasantly surprised! I apologize for the gaps in delays, but I'm a very anal and detail-oriented writer. I really like to make sure everything within this story is cohesive, accurate, and – very much importantly – plausible. That's why each chapter takes so long. Just a fair warning to everyone, I definitely am not one of those writers who can update twice a week or so. Unfortunately, that just isn't in my genetic makeup, lol. I hope you all stay patient with me!_

_In this chapter, we get another reappearance of a couple of Glee kids! One is just for a little bit – part of my canon tweaking – and the other is part of a bigger arc that brings us closer to our Faberry endgame. It's Lima, Ohio, everyone!_

_I don't claim to know much about Ohio, or Lima, Ohio, but I did spend five years in the Midwest after most of my life in California, so the comparison Quinn makes at the end of the chapter is kind of my personal experience comparing the differences between the two._

_Also, a couple of lovely reviewers have asked when Quinn is going to tell Rachel that she's gay. Well, the answer to that question is not for a little bit, and the reason for that is discussed in this chapter. Don't worry, Faberry will get some legs to run on. Alright, enough of my rambling! Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 9<span>

_**Even at nine years old, Rachel Berry took her dance classes very seriously. Every ball change, every riffle, every **__**jeté, and yes, even every attempt at tutting **__**was one step closer to the bright lights of Broadway. Her fathers were well aware of this fact as well. Therefore, for her Poppa to pull her out of dance class, she knew that the reason had to be of the utmost importance.**_

_**It was a sight quite familiar to Isaac Berry but new to Rachel. Her daddy sat on a bed in one of the rooms, the messy bun of Rachel's godmother, Dr. Helena Alexander, hunched over him, meticulously applying stitches to a laceration on his ribs. He had divested himself of his uniform top and had one arm raised as she closed the cut. Miles looked a little worse for wear; the cut Helena was stitching up only one of many cuts and bruises marring his torso and face.**_

_**Isaac came jogging in, Rachel at his hip, his bow tie slightly askew and glasses sliding off his nose. He noted his husband being tended to, a little beat up but more or less in one piece, and huffed out a beleaguered sigh. "Sweet Moses, Miles, what happened this time?"**_

_** "The usual, serving a warrant when the perps decided to run." Miles chuckled. "There was a bit of a scuffle, and one bast…" He trailed off, noticing the wide eyes of his daughter observing him from his husband's arms. "Uh…one guy put me through a table trying to get away."**_

_** "You should have seen it," Miles's partner, Dwight Evans remarked from where he was standing post at the door. He didn't look all too great as well, but the injuries on his person were nowhere near the extent of Miles's. "Miles just rolled over, tackled the guy, then put him in a chokehold until he tapped out."**_

_** Miles huffed out another chuckle. "Oh yeah. Didn't feel a thing." He winced as Helena closed the stitch and tied it off. "Then the adrenaline wore off…"**_

_** "I'm sure it doesn't help I've been sticking a needle into his skin for the better part of an hour," Helena remarked. She sighed, pulling the gloves of with a snap and throwing them in the waste receptacle. "He's pretty badly bruised, nothing some ice and rest won't cure. Make sure he puts ointment on the cuts."**_

_**Dwight nodded. "Chief has him out for a few days. Says not to have him come back until Monday."**_

_** Isaac returned the nod. "Thanks, Dwight. Say high to Mary and the kids for us?"**_

_** "Sure thing, Ike." Dwight ruffled Rachel's hair and leaned over clapping hands with Miles. "See you Monday."**_

_** Miles nodded. "Thanks, man."**_

_** "I've got a surgery in an hour." She shot a sharp look to Miles as the police officer drew on his uniform shirt and buttoned it up. "Take it easy, Miles." Helena kissed Isaac on the cheek and Rachel on the nose. "Bye, darling."**_

_** Little Rachel waved. "Bye, Aunt Helena."**_

_** Isaac put Rachel down, putting his hands on his hips as he looked over his husband. "Oh, Miles, what are we going to do with you?"**_

_** Miles chuckled, his deep voice betraying his exhaustion. "Whatever you do, make sure I'm buried in ice?"**_

_** "Buried in ice," Isaac grumbled, bustling around and gathering Miles's things. "He wants to be buried ice. Well, better than being buried six feet under." **_

_** Rachel scooted up to the side of the bed, clambering up beside her daddy and laying a hand on his knee. **_

_** "Did a bad man hurt you, Daddy?"**_

_** Miles grinned, his large palm cupping the back of his daughter's head. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to Rachel's forehead.**_

_** "I'll be just fine, baby girl," he promised his daughter.**_

_** "Daddy, that's not the way it works," Rachel chastised. "**_**I'm**_** supposed to kiss it to make it better."**_

_** "Well whattya waiting for, Star?" Miles tapped his cheek. "Gimme some sugar."**_

For a long time, Rachel thought her father was Superman. He was indestructible, bullet's bounced off him; nothing could fell him, and he always caught the bad guys. But the first time seeing him so beaten and broken – albeit smiling and good humored – she learned the hard way: her Daddy was just as human as the rest of them were.

Rachel Berry was well aware of the dangers of her father's job. Lima, Ohio wasn't quite the mecca of crime as other metropolitan cities, but it still had its fair share. Still, it never failed to send a jolt of fear through her heart when she heard things like her father shot.

They had made a quick run down to the studio where they knew Chris was working overtime to talk to him. Quinn did most of the talking as Rachel was still trying to process the whole situation. She mentioned in no uncertain terms that she was accompanying Rachel to Ohio. Chris had readily agreed. The fleeting thought to protest flit through his mind, but his heart clenched when he saw how desperately Rachel was clutching onto Quinn's hand, and he acquiesced without further thought. They were ahead of schedule anyway and almost done shooting, so the scenes between Rachel and Quinn they had left could just be rescheduled to the end.

Which is how Rachel found herself in first class seating, clinging onto Quinn's hand like a lifeline as the plane made its way from California to Dayton. Her other hand held tight to the silver locket with a small diamond star in the middle. Inside were pictures of her fathers and her mother.

As the jet taxied down the runway, Quinn stifled a giggle at Santana's mumbled curse from right across the aisle. "Oh, _hijo de puta_, I forgot how much I hate flying."

Seven hours later, the plane touched down in Dayton's airport, and Santana piled them into the SUV for the hour drive to Lima.

"I never thought we'd be back here for a long time," Santana mumbled as they eclipsed the city limits.

Rachel sighed, leaning her head back against the seat. "Welcome to Lima," she mumbled, the first words she had spoken since they landed. It was meant to be slightly ironic.

As Santana pulled into the visitor's parking lot to Lima General, she seemed to be scouting out the place. So far, no one knew that Rachel Berry and Quinn Lucas were there, but it wouldn't be long until some loudmouth recognized them and blabbed to some media outlet. They wanted to keep this all under wraps and avoid the circus until they had a better idea of Miles Berry's condition. Quinn and Rachel slipped on a pair of mirrored sunglasses to preserve their anonymity as they made their way through Lima General to the waiting area of the operating room.

Two figures occupied the waiting room. One was a blonde man with rugged features, clad in a police uniform. He sat on the hard plastic chair, elbows propped on his knees, hands clasped against his mouth as his police-issued boots tapped against the linoleum. The other paced in the small space, running his hands through his light brown hair. He seemed to be mumbled under his breath, a cacophony of prayers and threats

Brittany and Santana ran to the brown-haired man, flinging their arms around him. He jolted back in surprise before registering the pair, breaking out in a small smile before hugging them back. As they released him, he craned his head to find Rachel.

"Poppa!"

Father and daughter hurried towards each other, colliding in a desperate embrace. Rachel's poppa had to stoop down quite far to wrap his arms around his tiny daughter. They exchanged whispered words, clinging to each other with their shared worry. Quinn stood back as father and daughter reunited, not wanting to intrude.

"Quinn, my poppa, Dr. Isaac Berry."

Quinn wasn't sure what to expect when she was faced with the prospect of meeting Rachel's fathers. She tried to picture them in her mind, but nothing seemed to materialize. She was certain, however, she wouldn't have visualized the man in front of her. Isaac Berry was a good-looking man, tall and broad-shouldered. A chiseled jaw line and a strong chin sporting a small dimple highlighted his handsome features. He was obviously troubled with the unknown state of his husband. His dark brown hair was tousled, and a few strands escaped from its neat arrangement to flop over his forehead. The light blue eyes behind the square spectacles were rimmed with red. There was an obviously academic appearance about him as Isaac was dressed in brown chinos, a navy blue argyle sweater vest, and a bow tie in the collar of a light blue button-up. He looked exhausted, having clearly run himself ragged with worry.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir. I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances."

Isaac shot out a tired but friendly smile, shaking Quinn's hand warmly. "The pleasure's all mine, Miss Lucas. I've heard wonderful things about you."

As Quinn and her father exchanged small talk, Rachel turned to her father's longtime partner. Dwight Evans had transferred to Lima from Dayton, and the two families had become close to one another. One of Rachel's good friends at McKinley had been Dwight's eldest son, Sam. Rachel gave the elder man a hug.

"Hey, Dwight."

"Rachel!" Dwight ruffled the small woman's hair, bestowing a warm kiss on her cheek. "I feel like I should be asking you for an autograph."

Rachel laughed, returning the hair ruffle, the feathery blonde strands Sam was known for handed down from father to son. "Not that famous, Dwight. At least not yet."

"Look at you, all modest," Dwight remarked playfully. "That's not the Rachel Berry I know."

Rachel merely grinned at his lighthearted teasing. "How's Sam?"

"He's having the time of his life up in Northern California. He just got an internship with Industrial Light and Magic." The policeman shook his head with a fond smile on his weathered, handsome features. "Who knew his fascination with sci-fi would turn into a career."

Rachel giggled, hugging her father's longtime partner. "Next thing you know he'll be creating his own language rather than just speaking Na'vi."

She sobered, her face falling as she remembered just why she was here. "What happened, Dwight?"

Dwight mellowed as well, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "You know your old man, kiddo. Always gotta be the first one in, last one out."

"And?"

"We got a domestic violence call fairly early in the morning. Got to the house, knocked on the door, said we were the police. Then, we heard a scream. Your dad charged the door, there was a guy holding a gun on a woman. Miles told him to drop the gun and put his hands on his head, but guy turned and popped a bunch of shots. Miles was wearing a vest, but two caught him under where the vest doesn't cover."

Rachel swallowed hard, the worst of images creeping into her mind. Dwight didn't sugarcoat it. He knew Rachel well enough not to try.

"Hey, kiddo, he'll be fine. Your old man's a tough guy. 'Tis a flesh wound."

Rachel smiled feebly. "You two and that movie…"

Dwight ran a hand through his hair. "It should have been me, Rachel," he mumbled. "I should have insisted to go first."

"Don't say that," Rachel sighed, hugging her father's longtime partner. "Then Mary, Sam, Stacy, and Stevie would be in this position. I don't think they'd fare as well as we do." She forced a reassuring smile on her face. "Don't worry, Dwight. Pop and I are used to it."

Dwight chuckled weakly. "You shouldn't be."

The smile transitioned to an equally weak smirk. "Yeah, well tell Daddy that."

With one final hug, Rachel turned back to her friends, sinking down into the hard plastic seats. Immediately, her hand found Quinn's clutching tightly. The blonde's thumb ran over the back of Rachel's hand, providing comfort as they waited on news.

The little diva was tense, practically shaking with anxiety. Quinn nudged Rachel and gestured over to Isaac, trying to take her mind off her daddy for a bit. "Your dad really does look like such a professor."

It worked as Rachel's face relaxed in a smile. "He loves his bow ties," she murmured, watching her father pace back and forth, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling them up. "Every first class of the semester, he always wears a navy blue bow tie with a light blue and pink circle pattern and he tells the story. It was the first bow tie I gave him. I was seven and had saved my allowance." Rachel smiled in fond remembrance. "It's a rather ridiculous bow tie, truth be told, but he never fails to wear it."

"'Bow ties are cool,'" Quinn stated in a British accent. At Rachel's blank look, Quinn. "_Dr. Who_? The Eleventh Doctor played by Matt Smith?"

Rachel wrinkled her nose, frowning as she tried to decipher the analogy. "Is that the one with like the time machine?"

"TARDIS," Quinn supplied.

Rachel nodded her comprehension. "Poppa uses that show for a couple of his courses."

That sparked Quinn's curiosity, and she cocked her head. "What does he teach?"

"He's an English professor at Lima University," Rachel answered. "He uses a rather unorthodox teaching style, relying mostly on other methods than traditional books. His courses focus primarily on the use of television and movies as a contemporary medium for social commentary and revolution."

The name sounded familiar to Quinn; she swore she had heard "Dr. Isaac Berry" before. She could see the memory in her mind's eye, but the lines were blurry. Her mind, however, couldn't connect the pieces.

Rachel frowned. "Speaking of…I wonder where my mom is."

She didn't have to wonder long. They heard the woman before they saw her. The group glanced up as a strong, quite stringent voice preceded a dark-haired woman through the doors of the waiting room as she barked into a cell phone.

"I don't care if you have to pretend he killed the President of the United States! I want every resource available on this guy's ass to make sure he's in jail and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law – yeah, that's right, I just went _Law and Order_ on your ass. Miles is one of the fathers to my child, and he is one of the best police officers you have. He got shot under your fucking nose, so get your small, bigoted, homophobic mind out of your tiny asshole and give him the treatment he deserves or so help me God, I will use the significant pull I have to make damn certain the closest you get to the mayor's office is on the janitorial staff."

The raven-haired woman raised the phone to her mouth with one final, scathing message. "GET IT DONE."

Rachel bolted up from her seat, rushing the new arrival. "Mom!"

The older woman embraced her daughter. "Hey, baby." She turned to Rachel's poppa, grasping his arm warmly. "Ike."

Isaac's face relaxed slightly into a smile that wavered from the effort. "Shelby."

The two adults embraced tightly. Shelby took in Isaac's red, tired eyes and unkempt appearance. "How is he?"

"No word yet," Isaac whispered. "Helena's working on him though."

Shelby hugged him again leaning in and pressing a kiss to Isaac's stubbly cheek. "He'll be alright."

Isaac ran a hand over his face. "He better be or I swear I'm gonna kill him, myself."

Shelby chuckled and turned to her daughter, finding herself caught around the waist. Shelby ran a tender hand over Rachel's hair. "Good to see you, baby."

Rachel snuggled into her mother's warmth, taking in Shelby's familiar scent. "Missed you, Mama."

Shelby sank down into a chair, gathering Rachel into her lap and rocking the young woman in her arms as though she was a baby again.

Ensconced in the embrace she was waiting for, Rachel gave into her tears. "I'm scared…"

"Don't worry, my star," Shelby murmured, tightening her grip on her daughter. "Your Daddy is a stubborn, bull-headed, stagnant man who owes me fifty dollars because he thought you wouldn't get that Tony until you were twenty-five, thereby solidifying my claim that no one has more faith in you than I do. He'll live to pay me. You know I don't mess with money."

Despite her tears, Rachel rolled her eyes. "Mom…"

"Sorry, hon," Shelby apologized with a smirk. "I should probably wait until he's better to broach that, huh?"

Quinn could not take her eyes off the woman. It was obvious where Rachel got most of her features. The same coloring, same prominent nose, the same full lips, same prominent jaw line.

Santana nudged her, gesturing subtly to Rachel and Shelby. "Dead ringer, right?"

Quinn nodded. "Totally. Right down to the nose."

"And the rambling," Brittany chimed in, flipping through a magazine.

"And the paragraphs…?"

Santana nodded. "Oh yeah. You heard her."

Quinn smiled fondly. Yeah, she had been the recipient of many a Rachel Berry Paragraph. "Does she have a storm-out?"

Brittany cocked her head, playing with Santana's fingers. "No, I actually think she got that from Poppa B."

"That…makes totally sense."

Santana cocked her head. "Oh, and there's…"

Both quieted as a soft, lilting voice floated through the waiting room. Shelby was singing softly to Rachel as the younger woman snuggled into her mother's arms. Shelby wasn't singing loud, but the strength in her voice was undeniable and seemed to provide endless comfort to her daughter as Rachel's tears slowly began to ebb.

_The sun'll come out tomorrow  
><em>_Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow  
><em>_There'll be sun!_

_Just thinkin' about tomorrow  
><em>_Clears away the cobwebs and the sorrow  
><em>_'Til there's none!_

_When I'm stuck a day that's gray and lonely  
><em>_I just stick out my chin and grin and say  
><em>_Oh!_

_The sun'll come out tomorrow  
><em>_So ya gotta hang on 'til tomorrow  
><em>_Come what may_

_Tomorrow! Tomorrow!  
><em>_I love ya, tomorrow!  
><em>_You're always a day away!_

Quinn exhaled softly. "The voice?"

Santana nodded. "Yeah, the voice." Santana smiled softly. "Nothing calms Rachel down like hearing her mother sing. She went through a bit of an identity crises in college, but all it took was two lines from Shelby and she was back to being her Gold Star self."

"Shelby?"

"Shelby Corcoran," Santana supplied. "She's Rachel's biological mother."

Oh for crying out loud…Quinn internally groaned. There was another blast from the past. Quinn had heard of the elusive Shelby Corcoran in her days at Carmel – the god-like director of Vocal Adrenaline – but had never seen the woman in person. Shelby taught choir and a couple of the drama classes, but Quinn had transferred before she had attempted the fine arts part of the criteria for her graduation. She had always wondered if the stories she heard around Carmel about Shelby's rather intense rehearsals for the champion show choir were true, but now knowing Rachel and seeing how the little diva operated, she wouldn't doubt if they were. She remembered Rachel mentioning a mother when they had first met, but had never put the pieces together.

"How did that work out?"

"Her fathers found Shelby to be a surrogate," Santana explained. "She left Ohio for New York for the Broadway thing. Appeared in a couple of musicals and actually did pretty well too; she earned a Tony nomination for some crazy sex musical."

"Sex musical?"

Santana waved away the question. "It's a long story. Anyway, she realized she really missed Rachel and came back to Ohio. She teaches over at Carmel High School in Akron. It's about two hours away, but Rachel still spent a lot of time with Shelby."

"And her fathers were cool about that?"

Santana shrugged. "Not at first, but then they realized that Rachel was a lot like Shelby and they bonded pretty quickly. Shelby would write to Rachel and call while she was in New York, and Rachel was about eight when Shelby moved back." Santana shrugged. "The Daddys Berry are awesome, but sometimes you just need a mother's touch. They're a pretty tight family now, if not a little unusual."

Quinn smiled, watching Rachel relax in the arms of her mother. It only made sense that Rachel Berry came from such an unorthodox, slightly eccentric family. The woman herself was one-of-a-kind.

"Nice to hear a family like that is able to exist here."

Santana nodded her agreement. "Lima's not the most open-minded town, but where it counts, the right people know how awesome the Berrys are. They have the Berrys' back. They have some friends in some pretty high places."

Quinn stood as Rachel made her way in her direction, leading Shelby by the hand.

"Hey, you okay, Songbird?"

Rachel smiled weakly. "I'll be alright, Quinn."

"Mom, this is Quinn. She's my costar and very good friend."

"Quinn." Shelby's eyes locked on hers, and Quinn saw them narrow slightly. She recognized that look. Rachel used that look often when the gears would turn in her head as she was processing something.

Quinn smiled what she hoped was a winning, charming smile. Shelby nodded as she took Quinn's offered hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"You as well, Ms. Corcoran," Quinn replied.

Shelby nodded, that calculating look still on her face. She looked over to her daughter. "I'm going for some coffee. You want anything, baby?"

Rachel shook her head. "No thanks, Mom."

"Quinn?"

"Nothing, Ms. Corcoran," Quinn answered, immediately calmed as Rachel gravitated to her side.

Rachel ascended down into the chair beside Quinn. Almost unconsciously, she burrowed into Quinn, laying her head on the blonde's shoulder. Quinn kept her arm around the little brunette, her free hand finding one of Rachel's. She didn't say much, just offered her comfort to the brunette.

xxx-xxx-xxx

It was tense in the waiting room, a palpable feeling of the unknown hovering over its occupants as they waited. Quinn picked her head up from where it was leaning on top of Rachel's. She noticed one of their number missing.

"Where's Santana?"

Brittany looked up from the magazine, motioning with her head. "The hospital chapel."

Quinn took that in before kissing the top of Rachel's head. "I'll be back. You need anything?"

Rachel shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Thanks."

Quinn made her way through the corridors, taking in the stark white walls, the overly cleanliness…She had never liked hospitals. In her experience, nothing good ever came out of a hospital visit. She finally found the hospital chapel and poked her head in, not wishing to disturb anyone in the off-chance Santana had already left.

She never knew Santana was religious, but there she was, on her knees in one of the chapel pews, hands clasped in prayer. She was muttering under her breath in Spanish, and Quinn could tell she was trying not to cry. Quinn merely genuflected, crossed herself, and slid into the pew beside the Latina. She sat quietly as Santana continued, her eyes tightly shut, and her lips moving in whatever prayers she was offering up. There was a moment of silence as she finished. Santana crossed herself, scooting back onto the pew.

Quinn twiddled her thumbs in her lap, looking up at the rather imposing crucifix looming over the altar. "Didn't know you were religious."

Santana chuckled. "I'm Latina. I knew how to say the Lord's Prayer in two languages before I really knew how to speak." She cast a glance to Quinn. "Didn't know you were."

"I used to be," Quinn answered. "Strict Christian family and all that."

"How'd they take your…you know." As Quinn shot her a sharp look, Santana cocked an eyebrow. "Don't be mad, Britts can't keep anything from me to save her life. I won't tell anyone."

Quinn was sure she wouldn't. She sighed, eyes drifting up to the front where a large cross hung on the wall. "My dad was the devout one, but he was the biggest sinner of us all. My mom divorced him my sophomore year of high school. She believes in God and everything, but my dad was the by-the-rules guy."

"That must have sucked," Santana offered.

"Yeah." Quinn shook her head. "Everything had to be done to make us look like good Christians." She snorted. "I failed at that pretty badly."

Santana nodded her agreement.

Quinn shrugged again. "We were all better after the divorce. My mom just wanted me to be happy. She was cool when I came out in college. My stepdad was too." Quinn chuckled, shaking her head. "My sister thought it was the greatest thing in the world."

"Did your dad ever find out?"

"Yup." Quinn huffed humorlessly. "Caught me feeling up a girl at my sister's wedding. Called me some pretty awful names, basically everything a homophobe could throw. I knocked him out."

Santana offered out a fist that Quinn bumped with a grin. "Awesome."

"What about yours?"

Santana shrugged. "Pretty much the same. I was forced out, so I wasn't the one to tell them. My _abuela_ was the worst. My mom and dad kicked me out. They were fine with homosexuality, but God forbid it was their own child." Santana crossed her legs, her expression taking a faraway look. "I went to live with the Berrys. My family all came around eventually, but I'll never forget that time."

"That's rough," Quinn sympathized.

"Hell yeah…" Santana lofted a gaze to the crucifix apologetically. "Sorry…" She sighed. "The Berrys really came through for me. Didn't ask questions, didn't second-guess. They just opened the door and showed me to a room. Daddy B sat me down one night when it was just him and me, and he told me that he had been forced out of the closet too. His family kicked him out for a bit too."

It was the most emotional Santana had ever looked. "I dunno, I guess I kind of had an identity crisis, you know? Like how this all was going to change me. I mean, I wanted to be out, but I wanted it on my terms, and I sure as hell didn't want it to define me."

Quinn snorted. "Isn't that the truth?"

"Right?" Santana nodded her agreement. "Anyway, Daddy B looked me in the eye and said. 'I've known Santana Lopez for five years. She's never let anyone dictate how to be her.' He looked me in the eye and asked me what I said to my cheer captain when she laid down the rules for the rules for freshmen."

"What did you say?"

Santana laughed at the memory. "I said, 'Bitch, who are you to tell me what to do? I don't need you to tell me how to do me. I'ma own this shit, so just sit back and watch out.'" Again, she apologized to the crucifix. "Sorry."

She smiled fondly. "He reminded me that being gay didn't change who I was, it just added another dimension. I was still me, and I was still a motherfuckin' badass…dammit!" She looked up again at the crucifix. "Sorry!"

Santana abruptly stood up from the pew. "C'mon, Frosty. We gotta go before I end up guilting myself into saying Hail Marys for the rest of my life…"

Quinn followed as they made their way out of the chapel. The pair found themselves in a hallway on hard plastic chairs. Santana looked up at the bleak walls.

"They're _mi familia_," Santana admitted. "All of them. Rachel's family, my family, Britt's family, Puck's…we've been through so much together that we're one huge group. Losing Daddy B…" Santana shook her head.

"He's like the glue who holds us together, you know? He's the dad to all of us; the one who wasn't afraid to give us all a kick in the ass to get us going. He helped Puck shape up and think about football seriously. He helped me through my coming out. Hell, he even helped Britt get into schools for dancing."

Quinn's eyebrow inched upward. "Dancing?"

Santana nodded proudly. "Yeah. For as long as I've known her, Britt has loved to dance. She's always had this gift of movement. It's like…" Santana struggled to find an appropriate analogy, "Body poetry."

Quinn nodded. "I've seen her move."

"She got into both Juilliard and NYU for it," Santana revealed.

Quinn couldn't fight the surprised expression. She knew Brittany was a genius, but she wasn't sure how that ingenuity translated to book smarts. She did know that both programs were exceptional for future performers. "If you don't mind me asking…?"

Santana chuckled at the unvoiced question. "It's her choice. Britt says she's not ready to leave us alone, yet," she answered. "She says she's afraid what might happen if Rachel and I were left to our own devices."

Quinn nodded. That made perfect sense.

Santana smiled with pride. "It's not for a lack of offers or anything, either. She's done some stuff here and there, and she knows that if she ever wants to go something big, Rachel would back her no questions." Santana shrugged. "But she likes what she does because it keeps us all together."

"She's never been afraid of being just Brittany," Quinn mused. "Just quirky Brittany." Quinn cocked her head. "You know, I think the best advice I ever came from my grandfather. He was a literature buff. One of his favorite books was _The Power of One_ by Bryce Courtenay."

Santana nodded. "I think I had to read that freshman year of high school."

"There was this quote he liked to tell me from the book," Quinn said. "'Pride is holding your head up when others have theirs bowed. Courage is what makes you do it.' He told me to have pride in who I was, no matter if it wasn't what was expected, what was 'supposed to be.' He told me to have the courage to continue being me." Quinn smiled. "It took me awhile to be okay with that, but I got there eventually."

"If you're alright with being you," Santana ventured, "then why haven't you told Rachel you're gay?"

Quinn chuckled humorlessly. "Maybe I'm not sure how she's going to take it."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Frosty. That was weak, and you know it. Between me and Britt, Jesse St. James, and her fathers, she's like a walking rainbow billboard." Santana rotated in her seat, eyes locking onto Quinn's. "Real up, right now. What's the legit reason?"

Quinn swallowed hard, looking down at her boots. "It makes everything real. The possibility is out there." She chuckled wryly to herself, her head lolling back to stare at the ceiling. "If there was one thing I learned from my dad it was that emotions made you vulnerable. I may be okay with being gay, but I'm not the best when it comes to putting myself out there. Not when there's so much at stake."

Santana was silent for a lengthy while. She studied Quinn for a long time before nodding slowly. "I can understand that. More than you know." She glanced over to the other woman. "Let me lay it down for you. The slightly closed off, emotionally stunted to another?"

Quinn smirked, nodding with a small grin. "Sure."

"If there's one thing that Rachel is, it's that she's open-minded. With her, anything is a possibility. Even her sexuality."

Quinn absorbed that, looking Santana right in the eye. "You think I have a shot?"

Santana nodded. "Yeah. Question is, what are you gonna do about it now?"

Quinn chuckled. "I'll let you know when I figure it out."

Santana nodded again. She knew as well as anyone that putting your heart out there was the biggest leap of faith there was. She couldn't fault Quinn for her hesitancy. Santana let out a deep breath. "You think Daddy B's gonna be alright?"

"Yeah," Quinn answered. "Seems like he has a lot of great reasons to live."

xxx-xxx-xxx

As Santana and Quinn returned to the waiting room, Quinn went to Rachel's side and took a seat next to the little diva. Santana dropped down beside Brittany, taking the blonde's hand.

Quinn played with the ends of Rachel's hair as the little diva molded to her. "You alright?"

Rachel sighed, leaning against Quinn's shoulder, comforted by the sweet, flowery scent she had come to associate with her blonde costar.

"I will be once we figure out what's going on with Daddy."

Quinn nodded, running a comforting hand over Rachel's arm. Rachel sighed again, her hand finding Quinn's free hand.

"Have you ever experienced this?" she asked. "This utter hopelessness?"

"Yeah," Quinn replied. It was so soft, Rachel wasn't sure she heard Quinn correctly. "You find yourself in a whirlwind of emotions," she mumbled. "You can't sort out what's up from down long enough to figure out what you're feeling, let alone to actually feel it. The world is moving at ultra speed, and you're at a crawl, trying to catch up, trying to figure it all out."

"That sounds horrible." Rachel burrowed down even further into Quinn.

"Yeah. It is." Quinn didn't bother denying the contrary. "But it all works out in the end. And with the right people, no matter what the news, everything gets better."

Rachel nodded into her neck. "I've got the right people, don't I?"

Quinn chuckled. "If anything, you've got me, Songbird."

Just across the room, Shelby nudged Isaac, gesturing subtly to the pair. "What do we have here?"

Isaac cocked his head, surveying their daughter and her costar. "I believe we have a very gorgeous blonde holding our daughter."

Shelby grinned. "And what do you think?"

Isaac hummed. "I think that there is much more to those two than what she's told us." He saw the kiss pressed into his daughter's hair. "That body language is not the body language of just good friends. That's intimate."

Shelby quirked an eyebrow. "You think they're together?"

Isaac shrugged. "Perhaps subconsciously, yes. I don't think they've admitted their feelings to one another." He nudged his fellow parent. "What does mother's intuition say?"

Shelby tapped a finger against her chin. "Mother's intuition says that Quinn Lucas seems familiar."

Isaac's brow furrowed. "You've never met her before."

Shelby shrugged. "I can't shake the feeling."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Shelby, I know you're a fairly big deal on Broadway, but darling, you're deluding yourself if you've met Quinn Lucas before. You're not _that_ famous, babycakes."

Shelby smirked, not offended in the slightest. She reached over and pinched Isaac's arm. "And you two say she gets the diva from me."

Isaac waved a hand. "Don't kid yourself, Shelby dear. She totally does." He surveyed the pair again as Rachel nearly nuzzled Quinn's neck. "They do make a cute couple."

A little to Shelby and Isaac's left, Santana and Brittany were observing the same thing.

"San, look." Brittany sighed happily, snuggling into her lover. "They're so adorable."

Santana rolled her eyes, her fingers running through Brittany's hair. "Friggin' charming. Can we just like lock them in a room and force them to have sex or something? The tension is killing me."

"No, San," Brittany scolded, poking the Latina on the stomach. "If we push them into something too early, they're gonna go boom. It's kinda like your old car Lola, the one with the three pedals?"

"The stick shift?"

"Yeah. If you try to shift gears too fast, the car stalls, right? Same with Ray and Q. If we try to push them into lady lovin' without lady kisses, they're gonna stall and break like your engine."

Santana looked at Brittany wide-eyed. Sometimes the things Brittany said bordered on absolute genius. "Seriously, baby, you should sell this shit. We'd make a ton of money."

Brittany giggled, pressing a loving kiss to her girlfriend's lips. "You're silly, San. I know it doesn't seem like it, but it's not easy being this awesome. If I had to do it full time, I don't think I'd have any time to think about anything else."

Santana reached up, twining a finger around a strand of Brittany's hair. "Well we can't have that."

"Duh," Brittany remarked. "You and Ray would totally be lost without me."

Santana chuckled, tightening her grip around her girl. "You got that right, babe."

xxx-xxx-xxx

It was like time was slowing for them. The rest of the world continued with their everyday lives, but the friends and family of Miles Berry stayed in their little bubble waiting for news on the officer's condition. It was like they were all dangling from a very thin string from a precipice that was crumbling from its foundation. The group was on high alert, waiting for any sign that information was coming. Rachel was the first to notice a figure making her way towards them.

"Dr. H!"

Helena Alexander, Rachel's godmother and one of her fathers' best friends emerged from the operating room and headed straight for the group waiting for news on Miles Berry. Isaac bolted from his seat, practically screeching to a halt in front of the surgeon, Rachel right at his heels.

"Helena?"

"He'll be fine, my lovelies," she promised with a tired smile. "It was touch and go for awhile, but he'll be fine." Her pale green eyes softened as she took in the group. She threw an arm around her goddaughter, kissing Rachel on the forehead.

"He's a stubborn mule, and he'll be kicking for a long time. A little rehab and a lot of rest and he'll be good as new."

Everyone swiveled as a looming shadow appeared in the waiting room. Lima's police chief Robert Stanton was a massive man, even bigger than Miles, and he had the type of presence that made people part the Red Sea in his wake. Hard-nosed, gruff, and no-nonsense, he was the fearless leader of Lima's police force…who had a serious soft spot for the Berry family and one Rachel Berry.

"Ike, Shelby."

Isaac grasped the offered paw. "Hey, Bob."

Bob gave a nod to the surgeon. "Helena."

"Robert," she returned.

Thick brows drew together as he tugged at the navy blue tie encircling his meaty neck. "How is he?"

Helena smiled. "As I was just telling the rest of the family, he'll be fine."

Bob nodded curtly. "Good. Miles is a tough sumbitch. It'll take more than a few little bullets to make him kick the bucket."

"Gotta get business outta the way first," Bob grunted as he turned to Isaac. "Miles will be getting a commendation for his actions today. He aced the sergeant's exam, and since we have the money and the space, the brass saw it fitting that we be able to promote him." Bob looked to Isaac. "You'll be happy to know it will pull him off the streets for a little bit."

"He'll like that," Isaac responded, "and I certainly will too."

Chief Stanton nodded. "Alright, now I can just be Bob." He turned to Rachel, eyes lighting up with delight. "Look at you, Little Star. Grown up and going all Hollywood on us."

Bob reached down and teasingly swooped Rachel up from under her arms. It was quite funny to see a grown woman being held like an insolent little kid, her legs dangling a good foot and a half from the ground.

"Chief!" Rachel whined, kicking her feet. "Aren't I a little old for this?"

"You'll be too old for this when I'm too old to heft you up, little lady," Bob answered. "Now give your Uncle Chief a hug."

Rachel wrinkled her nose. "Can't do that if you've got me under my arms, Chief."

Bob merely smirked, tossing her up slightly, catching her at her thighs like she was a little kid. Rachel sighed.

"I suppose this will suffice." Rachel leaned in, tiny arms wrapping around a meaty neck. "Hiya, Uncle Chief." She kissed a grizzled cheek. Bob grinned, a grin that only widened when he spotted Quinn.

"Aw, you brought me a present?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Yeah right, Chief. Mrs. Chief would have my behind."

Bob smirked. "Aw, she won't mind. She loves the show." He shifted Rachel to one arm and stuck out a hand. "Bob Stanton. Pleased to meet you."

Quinn smiled, feeling her much smaller hand engulfed in the huge paw. "Hello."

Helena's voice cut through the introductions. "Robert, if you're done treating our goddaughter like Raggedy Ann, I'm sure she'd like to see her father."

Bob scowled, setting Rachel down. "Always such a killjoy, Helena."

Helena rolled her eyes as she looked at the large bear of a man. She smiled at the group gathered for Miles. "Two at a time, please."

xxx-xxx-xxx

With the reassurances that Miles would be fine, Rachel could rest a bit easier. As per Helena's request, Rachel and Isaac were the first ones to go in to see him. They looked upon Miles's prone form in the hospital bed. He was pale, weak, and clearly in pain. But he was alive…if not still unconscious. His chest rose and fell steadily with his breaths, but they were there. The bandages were a stark contrast to his skin and a painful reminder at how close they were to losing him. But, again, he was still alive. Rachel leaned down, pecking her father on the forehead.

"Love you, Daddy."

Isaac laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I'll stay here, baby. Why don't you go show Quinn around Lima? I'll call you when he wakes up."

Rachel bit her lip. "Are you sure, Poppa? I'm sure Quinn wouldn't mind staying."

Isaac nodded. "It will be good to relax and get this out of your mind for a bit. Your father's okay."

Rachel smiled as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Alright, Poppa. Call me when he wakes up?"

Isaac nodded, already sitting at his husband's side. "You got it, honey."

As Rachel exited the hospital, Quinn at her side, she looked toward her blonde costar. "So…we have some time to kill. What would you like to do?"

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. Show me this place where you grew up."

Rachel thought for a moment before an idea popped into her head. "Let's go to McKinley."

Quinn's brows drew together. "Your high school?"

Rachel shrugged. "Why not? I haven't been back since I left to New York. Might be fun."

Quinn chuckled. "Sure."

Brittany and Santana begged off, saying they had no desire to return to McKinley, instead choosing to visit the Pierce and Lopez families. Rachel dropped them off at the Lopez house before taking the familiar route to her old high school. As they eased into a parking space and exited the SUV, Rachel couldn't help the smile that bloomed on her face.

As she rotated around, taking in the sights, Rachel shook her head, taking in the grounds of William McKinley High School. Not much had changed in the eight years since she had graduated. The same statute greeted them as they walked onto the campus, the same red lockers lined the hallways.

"Well, this is McKinley."

Quinn smiled, her eyes raking along the grounds. "Doesn't look too much different from my high school."

Rachel practically skipped through the halls, pointing things out to Quinn. She stopped at a set of double doors, the extravagant construction a bit out of place amongst the drab uniformity of the rest of McKinley.

"Ooooh! I wonder…"

Quinn looked at the lavish doors, one eyebrow inching upward. "What is this? The teachers' lounge?"

Rachel snorted. "The faculty wishes they had these sorts of accommodations. This is the Cheerios' locker room."

"This is the cheerleaders' locker room?" Quinn took in the sight before her. "This looks like the entrance to a VIP lounge at a club."

Rachel laughed. "It kind of is." She surveyed the keypad securing the door. "You know, she might not have changed the passcode since I left…highly unlikely, but…"

Quinn wrinkled her nose. "You guys have a passcode?"

"And fingerprint recognition," Rachel affirmed as she punched in the code, placing her thumb at the scanner at the base. She clapped with delight as the light flashed green, granting her access. Grabbing the handle, she pulled at the doors, revealing a rather plush setting.

Quinn rotated in the middle of the room, taking in the leather couches, big-screen television and wall-to-wall vanity area – and that was just the front room. "Geeze, this was the cheerleaders' locker room? What did the football team's locker room look like?"

Rachel laughed. "Nothing like this, I can promise you. They don't give this kind of funding to a sucky football team. The Cheerios have been in the top five nationally for the past fifteen years."

Quinn shook her head as they toured the facilities. "This is unreal." As she exited the locker room with Rachel, she couldn't help but cock an eyebrow. "Where are we going now? Not some secret room beneath the school only for the cheerleading captain or something?"

Rachel grinned. "No, everyone knows the secret room is in Coach Sylvester's office, and she's the only one who has access to it."

"That's disturbing."

Rachel navigated through the halls until they stopped at another pair of double doors, this set rather plain in comparison. "This was my haven. This was where I felt most comfortable."

Quinn's eyebrows rose to the plaque over the door. "They named the choir room after you?"

"Of course," Rachel answered. "I _am_ the biggest thing to have come out of Lima." She gazed fondly at her legacy.

**The Rachel Berry Choir Room  
><strong>"_Shine big, shine bright, shine like a star"_

Quinn smiled as she read the inscription on the plaque. "Even on a plaque you're a star."

"They are a metaphor after all, Quinn."

"Why does that quote not surprise me?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Mr. Schuester told me they were considering putting up my quote stating nothing about show choir is ironic. I don't think they understood that I uttered that under extreme duress."

"But that's true…isn't it?"

"Yes, but I certainly don't want that excited utterance to be the one that immortalizes my presence in these halls." Rachel cocked her head thoughtfully at the room's entrance. "If I had my way, the door would be equipped with a motion sensor greeting anyone who enters the choir room with one of my melodic runs that showcases my impressive multi-octave range."

Quinn knew better than to doubt that was exactly what Rachel would do if given the chance. "And?"

Rachel's bottom lip poked out in the barest of pouts. "The school board deemed it too expensive to attempt and noted it would pose disturbance to students who may constantly enter and exit the classroom. The plaque was a consolation."

Quinn smirked, reaching out to flick Rachel's barely protruding lip. "Diva."

Rachel flipped her hair back, flouncing through the choir room's entrance. "I don't think it was an extraneous request at all."

Quinn shook her head. "No, you wouldn't."

Rachel grinned as she gravitated towards the middle of the room. "God, I have some great memories in here." She took a lap around the room before stopping in front of a trophy case, pointing at a framed picture by the biggest trophy. "Look, this was from our Nationals win senior year."

The boys were in all black: black shoes, black slacks, a black collared shirt beneath a pinstriped black vest, and a black tie striped with red and white dangling loosely from the opened collar. A glint of sliver peeked from beneath the vests, black studded belts securing the trousers. The girls were clothed red satin corseted dresses bordered in black lace with black pumps decorated with a small red bow. Both the guys and the girls wore heavy eye makeup, giving them a mysterious, menacing look. Rachel was in the middle on Puck's shoulders, holding up a large trophy.

"Wow, what did you perform to have you guys look like that?"

"A Green Day set," Rachel answered. "'Good Riddance (Time of Your Life),' followed by '21 Guns,' ending with 'Holiday.'"

Quinn nodded. "That explains a lot." She leaned in, laughing as she took a closer look at Puck. "Oh, wow, look at Puck's hair!"

"Told you it was even more ridiculous in high school."

"Do you keep in touch with any of them?"

"A few," Rachel replied. Our graduating class was one of the few that had people actually get out of Lima. I mean, you obviously know San, Britt, and I made it out. Most stayed, but a lot of us in New Directions actually did leave Lima."

"Like?"

"Let's see." Rachel pointed to an effeminate boy jumping up and down, his hands clasped together. "There's Kurt Hummel."

"That name sounds familiar," Quinn remarked.

"He's a fashion designer in LA," Rachel answered. "He's got a wonderfully successful men's line that's supposedly going to overtake Armani in a couple of years. He designed the dress I wore to the Tonys."

Quinn nodded, remembering the strapless red number Rachel had poured herself into. "That was a killer dress."

Rachel grinned with pride. "He's quite talented." She then moved over to a curly-haired boy beside Kurt, one fist pumped in victory. "Blaine Anderson. He is just breaking out on Broadway. They actually considered him to be my Jimmy Smith in _Millie _but it didn't work out."

Rachel continued on to a full-figured African-American girl. "Mercedes Jones. She works for Diddy at Bad Boy Records. She's trying to break into the business, but so far it's just background vocals, I think."

"Will she get there?"

Rachel smiled fondly. "Certainly. She'll find a way."

A floppy-haired blonde boy was next. He had his arms around Mercedes' waist, a wide smile adorning an equally wide mouth. "Sam Evans, he's Dwight's son. He's doing an internship with LucasArts."

Rachel moved to a boy in a wheelchair at the side. "Artie Abrams. You probably know him better as Arthur Abrams, III."

That name was also familiar to Quinn. "Oh yeah, he does a lot of documentaries. Most of the center on struggles of the handicapped."

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. He was a big AV geek and directed our spring musical senior year. He's very good." An Asian couple stood just behind Artie, their arms around each other. "That's Tina. She's down in LA with her boyfriend Mike. He's a hip hop dancer. He's done some great work with some pretty popular artists. I think she's a teacher at a performing arts school."

Quinn noticed that Rachel quite pointedly ignored a tall, brunette boy at the cusp of the group. She was about to ask Rachel about him when a deep voice sounded from the choir room doors.

"Rachel Berry, is that you?" A handsome, middle-aged man with curly brown hair and kind blue eyes hovered at the doorway, a stack of papers – sheet music from the looks of it – in his hands. He was dressed in dark brown corduroy pants, a light blue button-up shirt, and a navy tie beneath a tan tweed vest. "Wow! This is great."

Rachel smiled. "Mr. Schuester, good to see you."

Quinn noticed Rachel's greeting was warm and polite but detached. It didn't match the amount of enthusiasm the man showed.

"I heard about your dad, Rachel. How is he?"

"Dr. Alexander says he'll be just fine." Rachel rotated, gesturing to Quinn. "Mr. Schuester, my friend, Quinn Lucas."

Mr. Schuester's eyes grew wide as he took in the television star. "Wow, hi. My wife loves your show."

Quinn responded with a polite nod. "Thanks."

Mr. Schuester grinned, taking in his former student. "So are you just touring the school for old time's sake?"

Rachel nodded. "Yup. Showing Quinn the old haunts."

"That's great. Well, hey, if you're still around, we've got a glee meeting at the usual time after school. If you can make it, I'm sure the kids would love to see you."

Rachel smiled graciously. "That would be great, Mr. Schuester. We will see you then."

Mr. Schuester brightened. "Well, that's awesome." He hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "I'm just dropping off some sheet music, I've got a class in a bit."

Rachel waved as the man disappeared out the choir room doors. Quinn watched him go, lips curled in an amused smirk.

"That was slightly awkward."

Rachel nodded, her own lips twisted in a dry smirk. "His sole mission in life was to ruin my budding career."

"In high school?" Quinn deadpanned.

"Okay, yes, that is a bit dramatic, but Mr. Schuester never held me at the same standard as everyone else. The others were freely given solos when I had to fight tooth or nail for them.

Quinn's expression was nonplussed. "Rach, honey, you _are_ a bit of a diva."

"I can readily admit that at times, yes, I was being a bit of a diva, but he held quite a double standard. Not to mention he insisted on living vicariously through Finn…" she mumbled the last part beneath her breath, and Quinn wasn't quite sure of the significance of the statement.

"I guess my biggest thing was that I always thought he took me for granted," Rachel admitted. "All I wanted was a little bit of gratitude for the effort I put into this group. But when I would push for more rehearsals, more preparation time, even a different direction for our setlist or performance, I would be accused of being controlling or a diva. Yet when poorly-planned routines blew up in their faces or some adversarial circumstance arose, they expected me to be the one to miraculously pull the rabbit out of my hat and save the day."

"Did he ever acknowledge that?"

Rachel huffed out a chuckle. "No. Not really. Most of the time, he made it seem like Finn was our miraculous savior."

Quinn was about to ask who Finn was, having heard the name come up a couple of times in conversations in the past when Rachel seemed to straighten, her head tilting to the side as though she was listening for something.

"Coach, you're losing your touch. Perhaps a Bruce Lee viewing session is in order?"

Quinn frowned, unsure as to whom Rachel was addressing. She turned around to try and find the recipient of the peculiar declaration but jumped as she found a tall, blonde woman in a red tracksuit with intense ice blue eyes and an equally intense stare hovering right behind her.

"Bite your tongue, Ray. The touch of one Sue Sylvester is Midas gold."

Rachel smiled warmly at her former cheerleading coach. She didn't know how Sue did it, but she didn't look like she aged a day. "Hi, Coach."

The newly-identified Sue Sylvester offered out a curt nod. "Ray. I would say I'm surprised to see you if surprise was in my very limited repertoire of emotions. But as it is a weak emotion, I cannot for Sue Sylvester has excised all weakness, emotional, physical, or otherwise from her person."

"I would expect nothing less."

Sue took a step forward, her hands clasped behind her back as she surveyed her former flyer. "Miles?"

Rachel nodded with a relieved smile. "He'll recover."

"Good. If I was in the business of dealing out compliments like sweet mother's milk, I would admit that you got your formidable fortitude from your fathers. Nevertheless, tell him to expect a fruit basket anonymously at his bedside."

Rachel introduced Quinn hovering behind her. The television star observed the tall coach with a wary eye. "My costar, Quinn."

Sue offered another curt nod. Her ice blue eyes raked up and down the blonde's form, blatantly appraising Rachel's companion. "I'd say impressive if I could succumb to awe. But being Sue Sylvester, my standards for such only shall bow to the likes of Madonna and on occasion the reflection of one Sue Sylvester." Sue nodded thoughtfully. "I'll settle for adequate."

Quinn ran a hand over her hair, unsure at how to respond to the backhanded compliment. "Uh, thanks…I think."

Rachel laughed. It was amusing "You've done well since we left, Coach."

Sue inclined her head. "Naturally. This particular squad is soft." She walked across the choir room, barely containing her sneer at the piano and music stands littering the forward area. "I have to admit, I tire of winning effortlessly. I need to be challenged. I may find my talents needed in alternative arenas." She turned back to Rachel. "I hear that we might push the funding for a gymnastics team. Perhaps Sue Sylvester's indomitable greatness can exponentially expand by taking the team to Nationals."

That was a surprise to Rachel. "But why, Coach?"

Sue straightened, her body language and facial expression unreadable. "I find myself more and more unsatisfied with the quality that walk through my door. It's been this way since you, S, and B left. I can mold their bodies and destroy their minds to blindly follow my every desire to secure yet another championship trophy and further build upon my majestic legacy, but I can't manufacture the drive and determination you three had. Believe me, I tried it fifteen years ago but hit a snag in the patent office. Your thirst for greatness was infectious. That's why those years were the best."

She seemed to compose herself from her uncharacteristically emotional monologue. "S and B with you?"

Rachel was thrown a bit. She couldn't remember the last time Sue had so freely given a compliment. It took her a second to remember the actual question. "No," she responded. "They went to see their parents. Santana said they might stop by later in the week."

Sue nodded in satisfaction. "I'll know when they walk in. I have practice in two hours." Without anything further, she rotated and walked to the exit. Sue paused, turning slightly over her shoulder to look at her former flyer. "It's good to see you, Ray. Your very presence makes the stench of overwhelming failure and mediocrity more bearable."

Rachel smiled softly. "You too, Coach."

As Sue left, Quinn rotated and turned wide eyes to her costar. "Who…or what was that?"

"Sue Sylvester, our cheerleading coach," Rachel answered. "Come on, I'll show you the rest of the sights."

"That woman is deranged."

"Some would argue most geniuses are…"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel and Quinn walked along the grounds of the McKinley football field, relatively undisturbed – at least for now. Rachel skipped along the sides of the surrounding track. She threw herself into a roundoff to a back handspring, finishing off with a back tuck, remembering the many routines she had done in support of a mediocre at best football team. Quinn laughed at her antics but declined to follow.

"It all seems…smaller, doesn't it?" Rachel asked, the question clearly rhetorical. "This used to be our whole world. Now, it's just a small verse in the song."

Quinn chuckled, shaking her head as they continued the mini tour. She liked this little jaunt through Rachel's past. Every single person they met had some sort of impact on Rachel's life. She could see how dealing with a temperamental, obviously eccentric coach like Sue Sylvester prepared her for the equally temperamental and eccentric personalities that ran rampant in the entertainment business in all mediums. She could even see how Mr. Schuester influenced Rachel's perseverance. She was so fixated in Rachel's story about their first glee club Nationals trip her junior year that neither girl noticed when they passed a tall man with spiky brown hair on their way back into the school. He noticed, however, and stopped, doing a double take as they walked by.

"Rachel?"

A few steps away, Rachel froze, recognizing the voice instantly. She scowled, resisting the urge to stomp her foot. "Oh Bernadette Peters, I was hoping we weren't going to run into him…"

Quinn's brows drew together. "Who?"

The man rotated sharply, rushing back towards them, waving a large hand, even though both of their backs were to him. "Rachel!"

"Finn Hudson," Rachel sighed laboriously. "He's my ex-boyfriend." She forced a friendly smile on her face and turned back to the rather persistent address.

Ah, so this was the "butthead" Brittany had mentioned. She looked to the man practically tripping over himself to get to them. He was tall, easily over six feet, and had a lumbering giant sort of thing going on. He was reasonably handsome, kind of a boyish, boy-next-door sort of appeal; Quinn could see how Rachel could fall for him. Quinn didn't like him on sight.

He grinned widely. It was that schoolboy grin that used to send flutters trembling up and down her body. Now, she only mustered up feelings of fond remembrance. Finn dove in for an awkward hug. "Wow, what are you doing here? Are you here to see Mr. Schue or something?"

Rachel shook her head. "No, Finn. My Daddy brought me back to Lima. He was injured in the line of duty, and I'm here to make sure he's okay."

"Oh." Finn looked her up and down. He frowned slightly. "You look different."

Rachel smirked wryly. "Eight years will do that, Finn."

"Right." The giant rubbed a hand behind his neck, throwing out a dopey, lopsided grin Quinn supposed was meant to be charming. She thought he looked constipated.

"So what are you doing around here?" Rachel asked.

He brightened at the question. "I teach PE here at McKinley, and I'm the assistant football coach."

Rachel seemed to nod sincerely. "That's great, Finn. I'm happy you found something for you."

"So what have you been up to? I mean, you like never come back here. Your dads are always traveling to see you for like holidays and stuff."

Rachel shrugged. "Poppa and Daddy like coming up to New York. It's a nice change from Lima." She gestured over her shoulder to the blonde behind her. "Quinn and I are shooting a movie in LA. Finn, this is my very good friend and costar Quinn Lucas."

Finn nodded to the other woman, but his face showed potent confusion. "Movie? I thought you did like the Broadway stuff. That's all you would ever talk about."

"I did, Finn," Rachel answered patiently. "I made my Broadway debut right before my Tisch graduation and have done another show since then."

"But you're like not there anymore?"

"No," Rachel replied. "I just finished a run with the musical _Chicago_ when the director of my current project, Christian Keller, asked me to replace one of their actresses. I've been in LA shooting that movie."

"Oh."

Quinn observed the pair in front of her. They couldn't be more different. For one, Finn was an absolute giant. He made Rachel seem exponentially tinier than she already was. He also seemed to ooze the small town Lima mentality Rachel had described to her about the jocks and cheerleaders stuck in their high school days. Finn had never left high school – literally and figuratively – clinging to his glory days through football and glee club. She looked at his attire. He was dressed in a pair of khaki pants, Nike coaching shoes poking out from underneath. A red polo peeked out from under a red track jacket with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, both garments boasting the McKinley logo. A whistle dangled from around his neck, and he held a clipboard under his armpit. He seemed…normal, ordinary. The type of person that just blended into the crowd.

In contrast, Rachel was obviously out of place, her look a glaring deviance to the conservative Midwest style of dress they had seen while walking through McKinley with her black leggings with knee-high boots, an oversized cream sweater over a white tank top. Quinn certainly felt out of place even with her Burberry wool jacket, black skinny jeans, and black calf-length boots. It wasn't just their choice of style that set them apart. Rachel had an aura about her, a bright, shining star amidst the black void. She was born to stand out.

Quinn couldn't help but chuckle to herself finding quite the parallel between their lives and the film they were currently shooting. Rachel Berry didn't have a place in Lima any more than Sloane Gerard had a place in Greensborough.

She returned her attention to the exchange before her as Finn spoke again. "I think I've heard of that movie," he was saying. "I saw that spy thriller movie that dude made."

"_Gray Area_," Rachel supplied, mentioning one of Chris's previous films.

"Yeah. That's the one." Finn scratched his head. "Wait, isn't his next movie like a military one? The one with the two lesbians?"

"That would be correct."

Finn's brow scrunched as he tried to work out the information he was given. "So who are you playing? Like someone's best friend or something?"

"No, I'm one of the leads," Rachel responded. "I'm the love interest to Quinn's Marine." She knew she had to clarify her statement. "I'm one of the lesbians, Finn."

Finn seemed to squirm slightly at the declaration. "Uh, are you okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Rachel posed. "I did sign on after all."

He shrugged, adjusting his clipboard under his arm, before jamming his hands into his pockets. "I don't know. Isn't it weird playing a gay person when you're, you know, not gay?"

Rachel rolled her eyes. "It's acting, Finn. It's quite irrelevant if I'm gay or not."

"But you don't want to be like those actresses who get mistaken for being gay or something, do you?"

"Don't you think considering my fathers are gay, Santana and Brittany are gay, and Kurt, Blaine, and Jesse are gay that I would embrace the gay community?" Rachel ventured.

"Oh, er…right." Finn floundered. He seemed to fish for more topics to keep Rachel occupied. "Oh, hey, well, if you have time, you should check out the glee meeting. I think it would be fun. I help Mr. Schue out sometimes. I've got a quick meeting, but I'll be there."

"We'll see you there," Rachel answered. "I already promised Mr. Schuester we'd attend, Finn."

"Okay." He hitched a thumb back over his shoulder. "Look, I've got to get to practice, but I'll see you at glee?"

Rachel gave a conciliatory nod. "Sure, Finn."

The tiny brunette stood there for a long while, staring off where Finn disappeared around the corner. Quinn cocked her head, observing her costar. "Rachel?"

When Rachel didn't respond, Quinn reached a finger out, poking Rachel gently in the side. "Rachel?"

The other woman started with a small squeak. Quinn didn't bother to hide her smile. She placed a hand on Rachel's shoulder, craning her head down to meet the other woman's eyes. "You alright?"

"Sorry," Rachel replied sheepishly. "I just got major déjà vu. That took me back to high school. I except he was in a football uniform, and I was in a cheerleading one."

A corner of Quinn's mouth quirked up in amusement as Rachel led the way back to the auditorium where the glee club was meeting for the afternoon. "So that was the ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah." Rachel smiled fondly. "All in all, he was a very fitting first love."

"What happened?"

"He wasn't right for me," Rachel answered. "I had dreams that went beyond McKinley, beyond Lima, and beyond Ohio. He was so fixated on high school that his whole world revolved around his high school image."

Quinn could sympathize. She had heard of dozens of her former classmates at Theodore Roosevelt who suffered from the same delusions of high school grandeur that had kept their mindset stuck in those four years. "That must have been hard."

"Of course," Rachel answered. "I never cared about popularity. Where it counted, I never cared about what other people thought. That was all he cared about. Popularity was so important to him."

"He lost sight about what was _really_ important," Rachel mused. "High school…it's only four years, it's such a blip in comparison to the greater scheme of life."

Quinn smiled, appreciating the notion. "What about you?"

Rachel gestured up to the plaque over the choir room as they passed it. "Well, not a lot of McKinley graduates can say they have a choir room named after them."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel and Quinn made their entrance just before Mr. Schuester. As they walked down the aisle, Rachel couldn't stop the smile from blooming as she noticed the gathered kids already in the seats. Rachel beamed as she noticed the size of the glee club had increased since she had left. During her years, members were always difficult to come by. Between temper tantrums, ego trips – yes, some of them were actually hers – and the occasional move, New Directions often had trouble keeping the requisite twelve members. Now, it seemed as though the group had doubled in size with almost thirty kids waiting in the auditorium seats, their looks ranging from the jocks, to the Cheerios, to the misfits, to everyone in between.

Mr. Schuester made his way to the front of the seats, a wide smile on his face. "Alright, guys. Sorry I'm late." He gestured over to the two adults sitting just a bit away from the students. "Guys, we have some very special guests today. I'd like to welcome Quinn Lucas and our very own Rachel Berry."

Quinn and Rachel both waved as the excited whispers sounded throughout the group. They were interrupted for a split second as the doors to the auditorium swung open and Finn appeared.

"Hey, Mr. Schue, sorry I'm late. I had to talk with Coach." Finn clambered into the aisle, nearly tripping over Quinn as he fought against gravity to get to Rachel's other side. He settled down beside her, a beaming smile on his face.

"Hey, Rach."

Mr. Schuester clapped his hands, bringing attention back on himself. "Alright, let's get to work. So the assignment for this week was to express longing. Let's see what you guys came up with." He looked to the gathered group of students. "So who'd like to start us off?"

A petite brunette Cheerio lofted her hand. "I'll go, if you don't mind, Mr. Schue."

Mr. Schuester beamed. "Alright, Alyssa! Let's see what you've got."

The Cheerio ascended the steps, handing the sheet music to the pianist as she took center stage. The familiar piano introduction preceded her voice as she began a rendition of OneRepublic's "Apologize."

The girl's voice was nice, delicate and lovely with a hidden strength behind her slight hesitance. Quinn looked over to Rachel. The woman's eyes were closed, there was a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth, and her brow was furrowed. She was clearly enjoying the performance, but knowing Rachel, she was also picking it apart to help this young girl. She could practically hear Rachel compartmentalizing the performance in her head, pinpointing the girl's voice type, hearing how strong her head and chest voices are, noting where breath control can help. It was like watching a mechanic take apart a car. It was brilliant.

The cheerleader ended on a strong note, and her teammates showed their encouragement.

"That was great, Alyssa!" Mr. Schuester enthused. "I loved the tone of the song and what you did with it." He turned to Finn.

"What did you think?"

Finn nodded, running his palms over his thighs. "That was cool. I really like that song."

He didn't give any much further, but seeing the reactions of the rest of the New Directions, that seemed to be a common occurrence. Mr. Schuester nodded and turned Rachel to ask her opinion. "Rachel, what did you think?"

"That was very good, Alyssa," Rachel answered. "I was very impressed with your upper register and your ability to sustain it. You might need to work on your breath control. Just a little more attention on when you're taking your inhales, but actually not too bad. The one big criticism I do have is that it didn't make me _feel_."

The Cheerio cocked her head, a confused expression on her pretty features. "I'm sorry, Miss Berry, but I don't understand."

Rachel smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, Alyssa, this was hard for me to get too." She turned to the rest of the group. "When you perform, it's more than just singing words."

"What do you mean by that?" came the question from a jock, a soccer player if the patch on his letterman was of any indication.

Rachel ascended the stage so she would be able to look at the entire glee club comfortably. "The greatest performers – performers, my dears, not singers – can reduce you to tears." She smiled, her expression taking a sort of faraway look. "The first time I heard my personal idol, Ms. Barbra Streisand, I was moved in the best way. Her voice took me by the ears, slapped me silly, and said 'Listen to me!' And the only way you are going to stand apart from your competition is by doing the same thing. Take those judges by the ears, slap them silly, and say 'Listen to me!'"

A sly glance was passed through the glee club members, and one spoke up. "Would you like to demonstrate?"

Rachel's eyes widened in surprise before they narrowed, and she took in the conniving expressions from her spot on the stage.

"Oh, you are a sneaky lot." She turned her nose up in the air, winking playfully. "Just for that, I'm going to make you all cry."

She turned to Brad, " 'Someone Else's Story,' dear Bradley."

The longtime glee pianist shook his head. "You are a mean one, Rachel."

Rachel winked and strode to the center of the stage as a lilting piano introduction began to play.

_Long ago in someone else's lifetime  
><em>_Someone with my name  
><em>_Who looked a lot like me  
><em>_Came to know a man and made a promise  
><em>_He only had to say and that's where she would be_

_Lately, although the feelings run just as deep,  
><em>_The promise she made has grown impossible to keep  
><em>_And yet I wish it wasn't so  
><em>_Will he miss me if I go?_

Quinn thought she was prepared for the song, having heard Rachel's UPRIGHT Cabaret show, but as the diva began singing, Quinn realized that this song was different. This was a gamut of emotions she hadn't heard from Rachel's voice before. It was melancholic, sad, and wistful, a clear lament to a loss. This was Rachel at her most vulnerable. She leaned forward in her chair, her elbows propped on her knees and her hands clasped beneath her chin. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth.

_In a way, it's someone else's story  
><em>_I don't see myself as taking part at all  
><em>_Yesterday, a girl that I was fond of  
><em>_Finally could see the writing on the wall_

_Sadly, she realized she'd left him behind  
><em>_And sadder than that, she knew he wouldn't even mind  
><em>_And though there's nothing left to say  
><em>_Would he listen if I stay?_

Quinn looked to the New Directions to see if she was the only one affected by the song. Thankfully for her own ego, she wasn't. The group of teenagers all sat at the edge of their seats, completely entranced by the little diva. Rachel crossed to the other side of the auditorium, arms clasped around herself, her body language mirroring the language. She was trying to protect herself from the sad realization her character was going through, but there was very little to protect one from the truth.

_It's all very well to say, 'You fool, it's now or never.'  
><em>_I could be choosing no choices whatsoever  
><em>_I could be in someone else's story  
><em>_In someone else's life and he could be in mine_

_I don't see a reason to be lonely  
><em>_I could take my chances further down the line  
><em>_And if that girl I knew should ask my advice  
><em>_Oh I wouldn't hesitate, she needn't ask me twice_

'_Go now!' I'd tell her that for free  
><em>_Trouble is, the girl is me  
><em>_The story is, the girl is me_

Rachel ended the song on a wavering, lingering note, the musical equivalent of a whimper. Quinn let out her breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. Damn that Rachel Berry.

There was a long period of stunned silence before a sniffle sounded. A Cheerio was wiping a tear from her cheek and many others looked quite misty-eyed as well. Mr. Schuester, for his part, leaned against the side of the stage, a small smile playing on his features. The teacher was clearly lost in the nostalgia. Rachel barely contained her smug smirk.

"Rachel, that was…incredible."

Rachel inclined her head in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Mr. Schuester."

She walked to the edge of the stage, gracefully descending down to sit, her legs dangling over the side. She clasped her hands in her lap and beamed down at the gathered group. Her eyes scanned over the teary-eyed teens. Even through watery gazes, they waited for her to speak again.

"It's not very easy to elicit emotions," she remarked. "But it can be done. The key is that you have to know what you're singing. You have to be conscious of the emotions in the words. Don't just sing the words, _feel_ them; let your emotions fuel your voice. It's okay to delve into feelings of sadness and loss or anger and hate. Because if you understand those feelings, you can express them through song, and you can help others understand those feelings as well."

"The most moving performances are the ones that connect the audience to the performer. You understand what they feel, if only for that one song." She smiled at the current New Directions.

"You have a remarkable power," she imparted. "You can take your audience by the ear and make them listen to whatever you want them to hear, even if it's only for three minutes or so."

Mr. Schuester let that sink in for a moment before clapping his hands. "I think that's all the time we have for today," he announced. "Rachel, I don't know if you have a lot of time, but…"

Rachel smiled. "I have about an hour to kill," she revealed. "If some of the kids would like to stay, I'd be happy to hang around and answer some questions if they would like." She shot a look to her costar, knowing Quinn had a say in this as well. "Would you mind?"

"No worries," Quinn answered. "I'm up for anything." She grinned. "I know you're not as amped to see me as you are Rachel, but if you want to ask me anything as well, I'm game."

Rachel rose to move to the aisle right before the front row. Finn rose with her.

"Hey, Rach, can I talk to you for a second?"

Rachel paused, turning to her ex-boyfriend. "Sure, Finn." Quinn exited the row to give the pair some privacy, moving to grab some stools so they could sit comfortably in front of the New Directions.

Finn shoved his hands in his pockets, managing to shuffle his feet even in the confines of the row. "So, I was wondering if you were free to get together like for dinner or something?"

Rachel's eyebrow quirked up infinitesimally, but she kept her expression neutral. "You're asking me out," she deadpanned.

Finn lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Well, yeah. I mean, why not?"

Rachel's eyebrow inched up even further. "I'm sorry, Finn, but I'm a bit more concerned with making sure my father recovers well enough than social plans."

"I get that, but c'mon," Finn persisted. "It's just dinner. Just to catch up. You know, for old time's sake."

He shot her that puppy-dog look that used to never fail in making her cave, but Rachel was older, wiser, and she had been around dozens of men who had more potent looks on their bad days. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she decided to humor him. What could one dinner hurt?

"Sure, Finn."

He brightened. "Great! I'll pick you up at seven." He climbed over the seat to exit from the aisle and shot her a wide grin. "I promise you'll have fun."

"Great…" Rachel smiled tightly. She tried to muster up enthusiasm, praying that he wouldn't look too deeply into her acquiescence. "I'll see you then."

Rachel watched as he walked away, a bit of a bounce in his step. She remembered the times where he was her whole world, the times where she swore no other man would be more perfect. Now, after seeing the greater world beyond McKinley, beyond Ohio, Rachel had been privy to the true variety the world had to offer. She would always fondly remember Finn Hudson for the role he played in her life, but those feelings of intense longing and infatuation had long diminished. She smiled to herself as she joined Quinn in the first row.

Quinn looked up as Rachel ascended down to the first row. "What was that about?"

Rachel sighed. "I agreed to meet him for dinner to 'catch up.'"

Quinn's expression was entirely amused. "And you didn't see through that?"

"I did," Rachel exhaled. "But it's easier to humor Finn that have him dog me. He's irritatingly persistent. History shows that nipping it in the bud is the best solution for all parties."

"And that couldn't have been nipped by just saying 'I'm not interested?'"

Rachel snorted. "Yeah, if only it were that easy."

Quinn smirked. "If you say so, Songbird."

xxx-xxx-xxx

After an hour of fielding questions from the inquisitive members of New Directions, Rachel skipped back to the car, Quinn smiling amusedly at her side. She swung their joined hands between them as she practically frolicked across the parking lot. Rachel beamed bright and sunny as she threw out her arms and twirled in a languid circle.

Quinn just watched her with a smile. Rachel turned that beaming smile to her costar.

"Is it bad to say that I enjoyed that?" she asked sheepishly.

Quinn shook her head. "No. Why would you think that?"

Rachel shrugged, twirling again. "I don't know. Because that did nothing more than fuel my ego."

Quinn laughed. "I think you did more than that," she remarked. "You gave those kids a reason to dream."

Rachel paused, her arms falling to her side. Her nose scrunched up in slight perplexity. "Well, why shouldn't they? Anyone can get out of Lima, you just have to let go of the small town-Lima Loser mindset and dream big. Bigger than Lima, bigger than Ohio!"

Quinn could only smile as she took in Rachel and her infectious enthusiasm. It seemed fitting that the little diva would be so generous in giving back. Rachel caught Quinn's expression and cocked her head.

"What?"

"Nothing." There was that small half-smile again, the one that was so charming yet mysterious at the same time. "You're just amazing."

Rachel blushed, eyes falling to her shoes. "You keep telling me that, and I know it but…it feels different when you say it."

Her eyes lofted upward to meet a pair of hazel ones. Rachel's brows drew together as she studied the green, gold, and brown spheres. There it was. That emotion again. The unnamed one she could never decipher. Rachel held Quinn's gaze. She was about to ask what was going on in the blonde's head when her cell phone interrupted them.

"Hello, Poppa?" Her eyes brightened at Isaac's rambling and she responded in kind, ending the call and turning a wide smile to Quinn.

"Daddy's awake!"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Physically, Miles Berry was a very imposing man. He was tall at six feet, four inches with an athletic and muscular build. When she was a child, Miles was an immovable wall, the man who did not fall to mere physical force. She had seen him when fists had injured him - sometimes the occasional furniture piece - but she had never been in the position where he had been seriously injured. She steeled her spine, mustering up her courage to stay strong for her father.

"Hey, Daddy."

Miles smiled, but she could see how much effort he had to put into the simple gesture.

"My star," he hissed out. "My shining star." The grin that shone her way was only the fraction of his normal rakish smile. "C'mere and give Daddy some sugar so I can get better."

Rachel sniffled back tears as she obliged him.

"Don't worry, Star," he implored her. "I'll be fine. Good as new in a bit." He reached out for her hand. His big palm engulfed her much smaller one. "Go home, get some rest. I'm not going anywhere." Miles looked around at his surroundings ruefully.

"Literally."

"Rest, Daddy," Rachel entreated. "I'll be back tomorrow." She leaned down and pressed her lips to her father's forehead. "Love you."

"Love you too," Miles answered, closing his eyes to oblige her, his other hand tangled with his husband's. Rachel moved to Isaac, kissing him on the cheek.

"You want me to grab you some things from the house?"

Isaac shook his head. "No, honey, I've got some stuff. Go home. I'll be by for dinner."

Santana knocked on the doorframe and beckoned Rachel outside. "Rach, the paps have caught wind that you're here," she informed her. "They're camped outside the entrance. I called Jocelyn, and she said to make a quick statement."

Rachel wiped the last remnants of her tears and fixed her hair. She straightened, readying her show face. "Alright. Let's do this."

Santana led her and Quinn outside where a group of reporters mingled with paparrazi, eager to capture a picture or record a statement from the biggest thing to come out of Lima, Ohio.

Rachel looked poised in front of the camera as she mustered a small smile for the cameras. "Ladies and gentleman, I am here in Lima because this morning, my father, Officer Miles Berry of the Lima Police Department, was shot today in the line of duty while responding to a call. He has been operated on and is expected to make a full recovery." She looked to the flashing cameras and steeled her gaze. "I'd appreciate privacy during this time while my family and I help my father heal. Thank you."

Santana stepped in front of Rachel as the smaller brunette faded back, clutching Quinn's hand for support. "At this time, there will be no questions. Please respect Miss Berry's wishes during the family's tough time."

Santana led the way through the crowd, assisted by members of Lima's police department acting in deference to their wounded colleague. As Rachel slid into the SUV, protected by the people she cared for the most, she couldn't help but cast another glance back to the hospital. It only solidified the stark realization that no, Miles Berry wasn't Superman. Superman was bulletproof. Miles certainly was not.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Later in the evening, Isaac and Shelby joined Quinn and Rachel for dinner at the Berry house. Miles had gone to sleep fairly early, and it was obvious that the other man would be knocked out for some time. It was a comfortable affair. Clear worry for the policeman tensed the atmosphere slightly, but news of his eventual recovery was the glimmer of hope that they all clung to.

As dinner wound down, Quinn noticed the little brunette absent and searched the house for her. She found Rachel on the porch swing, bundled up in a blanket and staring up into the clear night sky. Quinn sank down on the bench, accepting half of the blanket Rachel offered. Rachel scooted over, laying her head on Quinn's shoulder as the blonde slung an arm around her. Quinn's longer legs braced themselves on the wood of the porch, pushing off gently and sending the swing into a gentle rock. They sat in silence for a minute.

"I forgot how quiet it can be," Quinn remarked softly as she gazed out into the tranquil evening sky. Lima at night was peaceful, serene, the only disruption the occasional car meandering down the streets. "LA is so bustling, so busy, even at night. Sometimes it's hard to have a moment of…stillness and peace."

"I agree," Rachel commented. "There's a reason why they call New York 'The City that Never Sleeps.'"

"Everything's calmer in the Midwest," Quinn continued, "slower, you know? People aren't as in so much of a hurry, aren't so concerned with getting from A to B."

"Do you miss it out here?" Rachel asked.

Quinn thought about it for a moment. "Yeah, kinda. Sometimes LA is overwhelming. I like the quiet times where there's stillness."

"Is that why you're so elusive?"

"A bit," Quinn admitted. "I think there's also a part of me that is still unsure of how I became Quinn Lucas."

"Emmy nominee and America's Sweetheart?"

"Yeah." She chuckled. "The last time I was in Ohio, Quinn Lucas was...a whole different person. She wasn't even close to on my radar."

Rachel craned her head up to meet Quinn's gaze. "So how did _that_ Quinn Lucas become _this_ Quinn Lucas?"

Rachel was surprised at the slightly melancholic look that suddenly appeared on Quinn's face. The blonde pursed her lips thoughtfully before replying, "That, my Little Songbird, is a story for another time."

"If it helps, I like Quinn Lucas," Rachel offered. "You might have to chip through the ice to get to the center, but what you do find is pretty awesome underneath."

Quinn's face softened, and she turned her gaze down to Rachel. Quinn looked at her with such…adoration. It stilled Rachel's breath . She ducked her head down, snuggling into Quinn's chest to avoid the emotions it stirred within her.

"Quinn?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for being here."

An impossibly gentle hand landed on her hair, stroking gently. Rachel felt Quinn fold forward to press a kiss to her hair.

"Sweetie, I'd walk the line for you."

_And there you go! Next chapter, we delve a little deeper into how Miles's scare impacted Rachel as the family gathers to help pick up Daddy B's spirits. Rachel goes on a date with Finn but finds herself thinking more about a certain blonde. Faberry is coming, people! I must warn you that a good part of this story is the development of the relationships as well as the development of the characters so really them getting together is only part of the greater scheme of things. It will come, but I hope you will stick around for it!_

_Thanks to everyone who has alerted this story and left reviews. They make me so happy. Feel free to leave a comment here and on Twitter, I try my hardest to get to everyone! _

_*ISP_


	11. Chapter 10

_Alright, folks, the second part of our Lima visit. I apologize for any mistakes, I really wanted to get this out. I'll come back to edit later today. In this chapter, Rachel deals with her fear of someone as close to her as Miles leaving her, a fear that has a greater meaning in the grand scheme. And, of course, it has to do a bit with Quinn. _

_The theme of this chapter is getting stronger. It touches on both physical and mental healing, and we get a bit of an insight on both Rachel and Quinn's families as the Berrys gather to help out with Miles and provide a little support. Also, Rachel's date with Finn…it doesn't go well._

_Also, at the bequest of one of my followers on Twitter, I also started a Tumblr. I'm not very good with those sorts of things, lol, but you can also reach me on there! I kind of like it; I can post sneak peeks and such without the limitation of 140 characters!_

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 10<span>

_**It is a recognized truth that things are blown dramatically out of proportion in high school. **_

_** Beef it in the cafeteria in front of everyone?**_

_** Show up with a bag over your face for a week.**_

_** Find yourself trussed up on the flag pole in just your underwear for the whole school to see?**_

_**Perhaps a transfer is in order.**_

_**End your relationship with a very public breakup that ends in someone covered in McKinley's favorite loser-status crowning method, a.k.a. a slushie facial?**_

_**Well, that was close to an apocalyptic, end of the world disaster as one could get. **_

_**When word got out that Finn Hudson had dumped Rachel Berry – and had consequently had a slushie thrust in his face for all his trouble – the entire school wondered if McKinley would still be standing in the wake of this major hierarchal shake up – or if one Santana Lopez would go on a terror-reign in defense of her Tiny.**_

_**McKinley was surprised, however, when Rachel had bounced into school as though nothing had happened. In fact, she went about her day with a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. The only difference was that she completely ignored Finn Hudson. It was though he simply didn't exist.**_

_**The full fallout didn't come until the glee meeting after school. Before Mr. Schuester could go on about the assignment for the week. Rachel raised her hand. "Mr. Schuester, I would like to perform something if I may?"**_

_**Without waiting for him to respond, Rachel moved to the front of the choir room. Puck grabbed his guitar, taking a seat beside her on one of the stools. He reached out, squeezing her hand, offering her support. Plucking out the beginning notes, he encouraged her with a nod as she took a deep breath and began to sing.**_

**Woke up late today and I still feel the sting of the pain  
><strong>**But I brushed my teeth anyway  
><strong>**I got dressed through the mess and put a smile on my face  
><strong>**I got a little bit stronger**

**Riding in the car to work and I'm trying to ignore the hurt  
><strong>**So I turned on the radio, stupid song made me think of you  
><strong>**I listened to it for minute but I changed it  
><strong>**I'm getting a little bit stronger, just a little bit stronger**

**And I'm done hoping that we could work it out  
><strong>**I'm done with how it feels, spinning my wheels  
><strong>**Letting you drag my heart around  
><strong>**And, oh, I'm done thinking that you could ever change**

**I know my heart will never be the same  
><strong>**But I'm telling myself I'll be okay  
><strong>**Even on my weakest days  
><strong>**I get a little bit stronger**

**Doesn't happen overnight but you turn around  
><strong>**And a month's gone by and you realize you haven't cried  
><strong>**I'm not giving you a hour or a second or another minute longer  
><strong>**I'm busy getting stronger**

**And I'm done hoping that we can work it out  
><strong>**I'm done with how it feels, spinning my wheels  
><strong>**Letting you drag my heart around  
><strong>**And, oh, I'm done thinking, that you could ever change**

**I know my heart will never be the same  
><strong>**But I'm telling myself I'll be okay  
><strong>**Even on my weakest days, I get a little bit stronger  
><strong>**I get a little bit stronger**

_**It was a powerful performance. There was a stunning simplicity that made it all the more engaging. It wasn't malicious or spiteful; it was simply a message. It was a message that yes, she wasn't completely immune to the feelings inside her. Their was no mistaking the effect their breakup and those feelings had on her, but she was moving past them, choosing to not dwell on them. In essence, Rachel Berry had served Finn Hudson a very effective "Fuck you."**_

Rachel wasn't a stranger to the concept of getting stronger. Adversity was a common instance in her life, and with every time she triumphed, even in the moments when she fell, her skin got a little tougher, and she got a little stronger. Rachel Berry was a strong woman, but even strong people had their limits.

It seemed as though there was a big difference between the days when they had seen Miles. He looked a bit stronger, more alert, more conscious, but he was still in a good amount of pain. Helena had been in to check up on him as the nurses did their rounds, and she said that chances were, he would have to stay in the hospital for at least a week while they made sure no other complications arose, maybe a couple more days at the least if he was lucky. That was slightly worrying to Rachel as she would be back in Los Angeles before them and her father didn't have the most flexible teaching schedule.

She tried to stay discreet as their SUV pulled up to the hospital parking lot, but it seemed as though the paparazzi had been camped out since early that morning. The hospital security kept the cameras at bay, but the flashes still insistently followed her as she and Quinn entered the building. Rachel let out a deep breath as she ascended the elevator to her Daddy's floor. As she exited the elevator, Rachel found her father in the lobby, his phone pressed to his ear.

"Alright, thanks, Lorraine. That would be a big help," he was saying. "Yes, I'll send my best to Miles." Isaac laughed. "Of course I'll give him a kiss for you…Yes, I will make it an appropriately motherly kiss…Alright, Lorraine…Bye."

Rachel approached her father, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek as he ended to call. "Was that Nana?"

"Yup," Isaac answered, sliding his phone into his pocket. "She's coming down to help take care of your Daddy, and I think she's bringing your Uncle Chuck. She said something about Auntie Loretta also stopping by, but we'll see if she can make it. We'll have a bit of a get-together at the house." Isaac sobered. "Your dad won't be out of the hospital yet, but it will be nice to be able to get some of the family together."

"That's good. He'll love having everyone around." Rachel looked to the room where she could see her father flipping through the channels. "Can I talk to him alone for a bit?"

Isaac nodded. "Sure, honey. I'll be outside."

"Thanks, Poppa." Rachel leaned up again to kiss his stubbly cheek. "Love you."

"Love you too, Star."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel walked into her father's room to find Miles sitting up in his bed, catching up on scores and highlights on ESPN, grumbling at the basketball scores. Even though the Berrys had spent all of Rachel's childhood and a good amount of their marriage in Lima, Miles couldn't let go of his hometown teams. Therefore, regalia of the Phillies, 76ers, Eagles, and the occasional Flyers piece was prominent in the Berry home which, of course, clashed with Isaac's preferences for the Boston-based teams, as well as Rachel's longtime allegiance to anything related to her beloved New York, which included the multitude of sports teams. Viewing parties often found the Berry family in designated areas of their homes as each cheered for a separate team. Still the city of Philadelphia and the state of Pennsylvania held a special sort of for the Berry men as the City of Brotherly Love was where a young Isaac Griffin-Beauregard, then attending the University of Pennsylvania, had visited Villanova University, where he subsequently met Miles Berry, who was studying criminal justice on a football scholarship.

She lingered at the threshold, just watching her father. She had always seen him as such a huge figure in both physical stature and personality. Miles Berry was so physically imposing. Six feet-four inches of serious broad-shouldered muscle poured into a police officer's uniform, he had always reflected a physical strength. But as she looked at him, swathed in bandages and unable to move, the physical strength that had been so characteristic in him normally was noticeably absent. It hurt her to see him like this. It was something that she had seen so many times in her childhood, but it never failed to send a pang through her heart.

Miles grinned as he spotted his daughter hovering in the doorway, oblivious to the inner turmoil going on in her head. "Hey, baby."

Rachel was quiet, but she smiled gently, sidling in to approach Miles's bedside. He was still as handsome as ever, his smooth mocha skin, slightly paler than usual as he fought to regain the blood he had lost. His normally impeccably groomed goatee slightly uneven as his stubble marred his cheeks. She looked up to his head – shiny as ever in its baldness. He had kept that style for as long as she could remember but had officially lost his remaining hair about eight years ago. She reached out to grasp her father's hand. It was clear he was in pain, but she kept her expression impassive. "Hi, Daddy."

Miles smiled, looking at his little girl all grown up. "You came all this way for me?"

"Of course, Daddy," Rachel descended down to his bedside. "If you had so much as a paper cut, I would be on the first flight out to make sure everything was alright."

Miles beamed. He was where Rachel got that Gold Star Smile of hers. "Good to know you're not forgetting about your old man even in all your Hollywood shine."

Rachel shook her head. "Never, Daddy. Who could forget the man who first guided her feet to rhythm, thereby solidifying her love and prowess for dance?" Her voice broke on the last word, and Rachel ducked her head to compose herself.

"Baby?" Miles's gaze grew concerned. "What's wrong?"

Rachel shook her head again, her lips clamped tight.

"Star." The tone was slightly admonishing.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Rachel murmured. "It's nothing."

"Rachel, what's wrong?"

Rachel bit her lip, at first very reticent in speaking her mind. Then she saw her father lying in the bed, a sight that had been so prevalent in her childhood and early adolescence, and everything built up from all those years came spilling out.

"This has to stop, Daddy. You can't keep doing this. So many times, Poppa has had to pull me out of a dance class or pick me up straight after school to come and see you in a hospital bed with stitches and cuts and bruises, and concussions and stab wounds and gunshots! You can't keep doing this, Dad!"

Miles looked bewildered at the sudden outburst. "Rachel, I'm doing my job."

"No, Daddy!" Rachel cried. "You can't say that this is part of your job. The way it's been, I would believe your job was landing in the hospital! You can't say that any other officer has had nearly as many incident reports as you've had, as many trips to the hospital! Time after time, you take these unnecessary risks and you land yourself injured."

"Rachel, honey–"

"I don't want to have to bury you until you've walked me down the aisle, and taught your grandbabies all sorts of naughty things that would have me shaking my head." Rachel's head dropped behind her hands. "You can't say you haven't seen how this has been affecting Poppa. You can't say that this is just part of the job. This is Lima for crying out loud, not New York! We don't have gangbangers on the corners or a rampant drug trade or even a shred of organized crime. Are you trying to prove something? Are you trying to see how hard you can push yourself before you break? Daddy, I can't…" her voice lowered to a whisper that resonated with the power and intent of a shout. "I can't _lose_ you. Not like this. Not by someone else's hand. I'm not…_strong enough_."

Miles was struck speechless as he looked at his daughter. She was always so strong, so resilient. When he had caught word that she had been slightly bullied in her younger years, he would have never guessed with the way she had conducted herself. It seemed as though nothing ever fazed her; every knock she took, she got up, dusted herself off, and continued on.

Rachel drew in a shuddering breath, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm probably making your heart rate bust through the roof."

Miles looked at his daughter as she composed himself. He had a penetrating look in his face. He betrayed nothing.

"I didn't know this hurt you so much."

"Daddy…" Rachel sighed. "Every time Poppa and I get a call from the station or from Dwight, we think it's the morgue telling us we have to come down and identify your body. You have to know that."

Miles's throat constricted as he reached out to his daughter. "Rachel…honey…you have to know I don't mean to put you through this."

"I know, Dad," Rachel answered. "But, please, think about us before you go charging in guns blazing. Think about us, _please_."

Miles nodded. He couldn't say much else. She gave him a good deal to think about. Rachel rose from her chair and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I'll see you before I get back to LA." She moved down to meet his eyes. "I love you, Daddy."

Miles exhaled deeply. "I love you too, Star."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel breathed out a deep sigh, exiting her father's room. She composed herself, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Quinn stood from where she was waiting outside Miles's door. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Rachel answered. "Just…trying to process things."

Quinn's shrewd gaze bore into Rachel, one eyebrow slightly tilted higher than the other. "This isn't the first time this has happened," she surmised. "Is it?"

The expression on Rachel's face said more than the verbal affirmative she offered. Rachel sighed. "My father has quite the penchant for landing in the hospital," she revealed. "He's not reckless, _per se_, but he has an alarming of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don't know what it is, but it's like a shot could be from across the room, ricochet against a dozen different places, and finally hit my father."

Quinn leveled a dubious gaze to her costar. She knew of Rachel's tendency to embellish, but it certainly wasn't the time to call her out on such an action. Rachel rolled her eyes, knowing where Quinn's thoughts were headed.

"I wish I was joking," Rachel lamented. "His fellow officers call him Lucky because no other person who has been in the hospital as many times as he has is still alive."

Rachel scrutinized Quinn for a long moment. "How do you always know the right things to say?"

Quinn flushed pink, dropping her head, her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. "It's not easy seeing you sad, you know? It would be like if Brittany suddenly stopped talking in strangely accurate analogies."

Rachel smiled, leaning up to kiss Quinn on the cheek. "That's sweet, Quinn. Thank you for caring so much."

Quinn returned the smile. "So what now?"

Rachel turned, looking at her father over her shoulder. He seemed contemplative as he stared at the television, looking at the images but not seeing. "Now, we all get stronger."

Quinn cocked her head, following Rachel out of the hospital. Get stronger. What a novel concept.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel and Quinn returned to the Berry house to wait for the rest of the family. Isaac stayed back at the hospital, taking care of some last minute things so that Miles was comfortable. Shelby was setting out some food and drinks for the group coming. Santana had texted her saying her family and Brittany's would stop by in a little bit.

"Where's my Rachel? Where's my grandbaby!"

A full-figured woman of medium height burst through the door, boisterous and lively. Rachel bolted up from the couch and ran to the woman with a bright and a wide smile.

"Nana!"

"Come, now, child," Lorraine Berry boomed. "Give your Nana a hug."

Rachel obliged, wrapping her arms around Miles's mother's generous hips, breathing in the familiar scent that reminded her of childhood visits filled with lively laughter, boisterous family squabbles and old Motown, jazz, and rock 'n roll music.

"Honey, you're as thin as a stick!" Lorraine tsked through her teeth. "You need a good home-cooked meal! None of that sushi or rabbit food you celebrities eat all the time."

"And how do you propose that knowing your granddaughter has a very strict diet regimen?"

Rachel brightened even more as a light, lilting voice floated into the house. By complete contrast, Isaac's mother, Vivienne Griffin-Beauregard, was tall, slender, and impeccably dressed, the old-money elegance simply seeping from a graceful carriage. She had lived in America for over forty years, but her voice still held the touch of a cultured British accent from her childhood years across the pond. Vivienne was a long way from her home city of Weston, a wealthy suburb of Boston, but she looked just as comfortable in the Berry family home as she did in her own estate.

Lorraine puffed up at the sight of the other woman, shaking a finger at the blue-blooded socialite. "Don't you take that tone with me, Posh Spice."

Rachel ran up to the elegant woman who wrapped her up in a hug and kissed her on both cheeks. "Grandmother, this is a surprise!"

"It shouldn't be, darling," Vivienne scolded gently. "Miles is as much of family as Isaac is."

"And you were also conveniently in town for that convention in Columbus," Rachel surmised.

Vivienne inclined her head, a small smile curling the corners of her mouth. "Yes, that too, darling, but we shouldn't fixate on such scruples. Now use the manners I taught you and please introduce me to your friend here."

"Oh! Yes, of course. Grandmother, Nana, this is Quinn Lucas. She's my very good friend and costar."

Vivienne held out an elegant hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Quinn."

Quinn grasped the offering, a bit intimidated with the poised, sophisticated elder woman. "You too, ma'am."

Lorraine moved forward, enfolding Quinn in a large bear hug. "Welcome, Quinn."

Unused to such an affectionate greeting, Quinn could only squeak out a, "Thanks, Mrs. Berry."

Vivienne waved toward the living room. "You go relax with your friend, Rachel. Your Nana and I are going to take care of dinner."

Rachel cocked an eyebrow and obliged, leading Quinn into the living room and settling down beside her. She smirked as almost immediately, Vivienne and Lorraine began squabbling in the kitchen.

_"Lorraine, for goodness sake, go easy on the starch! You'll give the girl a heart attack, not to mention extra pounds that the camera surely will pick up."_

_ "Oh, hush, you hoity-toity socialite, the girl could use some meat to her bones. She's already tiny, we don't want her floating away with a stiff wind."_

_ "The only thing floating away with the wind would be her cremated ashes as you've killed her from a heart attack." _

Their attention was again directed to the door as Santana busted through the door, her family and Brittany's family behind her. Quinn's eyes widened as even more chaos erupted, everyone mingling to say their hellos, exchanging hugs and kisses. She had been to the obligatory Fabray family functions as a child and a teenager, but they were nothing like this. It was all pomp and circumstance, presentation and image. There just stiff formality and painfully pretentious conversations.

Quinn sat back for a little bit and just observed the scene. She could see little Rachel Berry growing up in this fun chaos – the good-natured squabbling, the loud opinions flying across the room – and thriving in this wonderfully supportive atmosphere. She smiled as she spotted Vivienne and Lorraine facing off in the kitchen.

"They really don't hate each other, do they?"

"No," Rachel laughed. "It's an act. It's not a family get-together if Grandmother and Nana don't bicker, but really they love each other. They fight because they respect each other…and because they can."

"Kind of like you and Santana?"

Rachel nodded. "Actually a lot like me and Santana."

"Chuck!" Loretta was hollering out the kitchen towards the open front door. "Where is that…? Chuck!"

"Coming, Momma." Charles Berry appeared in the doorway, lugging a large He wasn't as tall as Miles, but he was still solid and fit, an innate strength in his lanky build. "Damn, what the hell did you bring with you?" He grunted, hauling the suitcase through the entrance. "We're not staying forever."

"Charles Edward, don't you be swearing around good company," Lorraine scolded. "I may not be as young and spry as I once was, but I can still catch you and put a whuppin' to that backside."

"Chuck Berry?" Quinn commented with a smile.

"Nana couldn't help it," Rachel giggled. "She and Gramps were big into jazz and rock and roll. Daddy's named after Miles Davis and Auntie Loretta is named after Loretta Devine."

Chuck threw his arms up as he returned back down from placing the bags in the guest room his mother would be using, only to have Lorraine send him out for groceries.

Quinn laughed as he stomped out the door, grumbling the entire way. "There is never a dull moment here, is there?"

Rachel shook her head. "Not with this family."

Quinn looked to where Lorraine was shooing Isaac away from the kitchen with light, admonishing swipes to the behind from where the man was trying to pilfer tastes of their dinner. She craned her head, noting how the four families intermingled. The Pierces were talking with Isaac over drinks as he returned to the living room from his failed taste-testing mission, Shelby was helping Lorraine and Vivienne in the kitchen, and the Lopezes were talking with Chuck by the door to the backyard.

"You're lucky to have such an accepting family," Quinn commented. "If this was my family…" A mournful shake of her head was all she had to say.

"It took the family awhile," Rachel admitted. "Once I was born, though…"

"Nothing brings a family together like a baby." Quinn's voice broke slightly at the final word. It was a curious change in the blonde's tone, and Rachel made a note to ask about it later.

"Yeah." Rachel looked to where Lorraine finally let a persistent Isaac snag a taste with a chuckle, swatting him away as he placed a light kiss to her cheek. "They all just had to open their hearts to a different kind of love than they knew."

Again, Rachel's attention drifted to the door as a muffled voice filtered through the wood. She smiled as she saw her father's youngest sibling hovering on the other side. "Hey, Auntie Loretta!"

Loretta Berry-Bryant smiled, stooping down to kiss her niece on the cheek. "How you doing there, kiddo?"

Rachel craned her head, "Where's Uncle Jackson and everyone?"

"Your Uncle Jackson has a conference in Memphis this week – he'll be back by the weekend, Candace has a huge biology test that she has to do well on if she wants to pass the class, and Jace has a game that he can't miss," Loretta explained, citing the whereabouts of Rachel's uncle and younger cousins. "We'll be back on the weekend."

Rachel pouted. "Darn, I'll be back in LA before then. Send them my best?"

"Of course, honey." Loretta promised. She looked out to the mass of people in the Berry home. "Everyone here?"

Rachel nodded. "Just about." She grinned as everyone greeted the new arrival boisterously. It was times like these she really did miss her family.

xxx-xxx-xxx

It was slightly overwhelming to be around so many new people. Normally, in these sorts of situations, Quinn would retreat to a quiet corner, content to observe, but it was impossible with this brood. They constantly called her over, absorbing her into the conversation, asking her opinions on whatever subject was the current topic of discussion. Soon, Quinn gave up, relaxing into the warm, friendly atmosphere that engulfed the Berry home.

She finally got a moment alone when she retreated to the kitchen to grab another drink.

"You're fitting in nicely," Isaac commented as he sidled up to Quinn.

Quinn shrugged. "It's easy," she admitted. "Your family is very welcoming."

"Thank you for coming with Rachel." Isaac looked over at his daughter. "She's such a strong girl. Sometimes too strong. It's nice that she has someone to be strong for her."

Quinn's smile softened. "Believe it or not, she's done a lot for me. I just want to be there for her."

"I believe it," he assured her. "Rachel has a tremendous heart. Frankly, I have no idea where she gets it from," he mused.

"I can see it," Quinn answered. "You all have been great."

Isaac eyed her closely. "You know, you're all she's talked about since she's been in Los Angeles," he commented. "'Every phone call has been 'Quinn did this' or 'Quinn said that.' You've cast quite a spell on my daughter."

Quinn dipped her head, blushing. "She's very easy to like. She just has that infectious…joy that is so magnetic. She impressed me from her very first moment on set. No one has gotten me the way she does, or cared enough to try."

Isaac grinned, showcasing a deep dimple in his cheek. "She's always been like that. Taking in the strays," he edified. "How do you think we ended up with the motley crew of Santana, Brittany, and Noah?"

"And I'm included into this fold?" Quinn asked.

"She wouldn't have brought you around if she didn't believe you were worthy, so to speak," Isaac remarked. "Why do you think we never met Brady?"

Quinn scoffed. "Because he's the world's biggest tool."

Isaac laughed. "So I hear." He smirked wryly. "You know, I just see it as a prelude until you come back as something more than a friend."

Quinn stuttered as his words registered. She looked to the other man, only seeing an expectant smile and a warm glint in his warm blue eyes. "Dr. Berry, I-I…I don't…I mean, I…"

Isaac chuckled, smiling gently. "Don't worry, Quinn. Your secret's safe with me."

Quinn scratched her head. "Am I really that transparent?"

Isaac shook his head. "No, I just have impeccable gaydar. How do you think I pinned down Miles?"

Quinn considered that point for a moment. "I guess so. He doesn't exactly scream 'gay man,' and I know just as well as anyone not to judge on appearance."

"But, yes, some people are more obvious than others," Isaac agreed. "To answer your question, you do look at Rachel in a way that I've seen before. It's obvious she means a good deal to you."

"And are you okay with that?"

Isaac cocked his head. "You know, we've raised Rachel to be open-minded when it came to her sexuality, but honestly, the thought never really crossed our minds that she would be partial to the fairer sex. In the past, all of her romantic entanglements have been with men. She's never given us any indication that she was attracted to women. But I love my daughter, whether she loves an Eve or a Steve."

"I guess the million-dollar question is are you okay with _me_?"

Isaac contemplated that question for a moment. His warm blue eyes pierced through Quinn with an almost otherworldly perception. "I have a feeling about you, Miss Lucas. That strange sixth sense Rachel seems to harbor? She got that from me." He smiled enigmatically. "We'll see if I'm right." His smile softened. "But if it makes you feel better, you're certainly the best she's brought around in awhile. She dated Noah for awhile, and he's practically our son."

Quinn smiled gently. She had seen firsthand the bond Rachel and Puck had, and she knew how much the football player meant to the little diva. "That's hefty praise."

"It all comes down to one final question," Isaac intoned mysteriously. His eyes twinkled. "Favorite _Warehouse 13_ episode, go!"

"The season three finale," Quinn answered immediately. "That final look between HG Wells and Myka? I die every time."

Isaac laughed, taking a drink of his bourbon. "Oh, honey, if I didn't know you were gay before, that would have seriously pinged my gaydar…"

Quinn blushed. "Jaime Murray is hot."

Isaac merely smirked. He caught Quinn's eyes flicking over to Rachel. "May I be frank with you?"

Quinn nodded. "Please."

"As someone who has known Rachel all her life?" At Quinn's nod to continue, he reassured the blonde with a warm smile. "I know it's not whether she would be alright with you being gay but whether she would be receptive to your advances. My daughter, once she had set her mind to someone, has never been hesitant when it has come to pursuing love." Isaac smiled and patted Quinn's hand before returning to the living room.

Quinn stayed in the solace of the kitchen for a moment, resisting the urge to slap a palm to her face. She may have been an amazing actor, but when actual feelings were involved…it seemed that nothing could stay hidden.

xxx-xxx-xxx

"Hey, hey, Gold Star."

Rachel smiled at her mother as Shelby eased down with a huff, crossing her legs as she took a healthy drink of her wine. "You look exhausted."

Shelby snorted. "You know how it is during Regionals time."

"I do," Rachel answered with a smirk. "And I also know that you tend to share my obsessive tendencies…"

"Yeah, well, it's a hard thing to live down when your future Tony Award-winning daughter single-handledly demolishes your championship legacy," Shelby remarked with a fond chuck to Rachel's chin.

Rachel smirked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "I make no apologies." She looked over to where Quinn was listening to some ridiculous story Chuck was telling her, eyes bright and laughing. Beside her, Isaac was mumbling, clearly adding his own asides to Chuck's story.

"What's going on between you two?"

Rachel started at the sound of her mothers' voice. She rotated to Shelby to find her smirking in that infuriating way she had. Rachel's brow furrowed as she feigned ignorance.

"What are you talking about, Mom?"

"Rachel Barbra Berry, don't lie to your mother. Not to her face." Shelby cocked an eyebrow. "Especially when that face is so similar it's easy to pick out an untruth because it looks remarkably like mine when I do the same."

"_That's_ unfortunate…" Rachel mumbled. "I should have known that's how you knew about the time Noah, Santana, Brittany, and I took that unauthorized roadtrip to Columbus…"

"Well, and you're a horrible liar, honey," Shelby answered. She ducked her head to her daughter. "So what's the deal?"

Rachel sighed, taking a drink of her wine. "I don't know, Mom," she admitted. "I'm feeling things, things I've never felt for another woman before. I mean, it's _terrifying_."

Shelby cocked her head. "What are you afraid of, baby? You've never been afraid of going after a relationship."

Rachel didn't answer for a moment. She sat there, thinking carefully before she answered. "She's different. I don't know if I can put myself out there like that," Rachel mused softly. "Quinn is…the biggest enigma in both the best and worst ways." She shook her head with a sigh. "This could either be something completely amazing…or could possibly break me in the worst possible ways."

"What do you think, honey? Is it worth it?"

Rachel sighed, her eyes finding Quinn as the blonde joked with Rachel's Poppa. Unwittingly, a smile bloomed on her face. "I don't know, Mom," she murmured. "I really don't."

"And if Quinn were to show interest, if she were to make an advance, what would you do?"

Rachel sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not sure. But what I do know is that I tried to distance myself from her…yeah, that didn't work out so well."

Shelby chuckled. "Should that tell you something, baby?"

Rachel's head lolled back against the cushion. "I guess so, Mom…I guess so."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel skipped up to Quinn as she finally caught the blonde alone and not swarmed by one or more of her family members.

"Are you alright?"

Quinn nodded, slinging an arm around Rachel. "Oh yeah, I'm good." She cast an eye around the Berry's living room. "There's a lot of love in this room."

Rachel beamed. "Well, the family's pretty awesome."

Quinn bit her lip, looking down at her costar. In that moment, she made her decision. "Can I talk to you?"

Rachel's brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

"I have to tell you something."

Rachel nodded, apprehensive about the serious tone in Quinn's voice. She led the way up the stairs and into her old childhood bedroom so that they could have some privacy.

Rachel settled on her childhood bed, patting the spot beside her. "What is it?"

Quinn exhaled, leaning back against the headboard. "There's something I haven't told you about me, and I don't know what's compelling me to do so, but I think now's a good time to tell you."

Rachel nodded, urging Quinn to continue. Quinn turned her head, hazel eyes boring into Rachel's. "I'm gay."

"Gay?" Rachel bit her lip. "Like…into girls and not really, really happy?"

Quinn chuckled, remembering the conversation she had with Declan upon her own realization. "Yeah, Songbird. Like 'into girls' gay."

Rachel drew in a breath. Quinn was gay. Internally, Rachel warred with herself. That statement held many repercussions. That meant whatever was between them: the lingering tingles, the steadfast warmth, the flutters flitting against her stomach…all of that meant something or possibly _could_ mean something. What was previously ambiguous didn't seem so anymore. She looked up into the hazel spheres, the perfect combination of green, gold, and amber. She could see the vulnerability shining in the depths, hesitantly waiting for a response. In that moment, Rachel knew that this admission went beyond her selfish internalizations. At the core what did it all mean? At the moment, it didn't matter; this was Quinn laying herself out there for Rachel's scrutiny and unwitting judgment. There would be a potent weight in however Rachel chose to respond, and Quinn deserved better than her own selfish thoughts of the underlying meaning. Rachel nodded resolutely. There would be time to analyze the subtext later. Now was not that time.

"Okay."

Quinn's brow furrowed infinitesimally. There was slight confusion in the gesture. Surely, there was more to Rachel's response. "Okay?"

Rachel shrugged. "Quinn, did you think I wouldn't be okay with it?" She nudged the blonde. "C'mon, between my fathers, San and Britt, and Jesse, don't you think that would be a bit hypocritical?"

"N-no," Quinn stuttered. "It's not that." Her nose scrunched cutely. "I guess I was just waiting for a Rachel Berry Diva Reaction with flailing hands and rambles."

Rachel sent her costar a chastising look. "Quinn, my 'diva reactions' are for moments that truly warrant such a demonstration. Namely, instances of gross infidelity and stupid choir directors who insist on creating a three-song setlist for a National Show Choir Competition the day before the preliminary round leaving us with no time for adequate preparation and are irrationally surprised when his oaf of a leading man decides to kiss his leading woman onstage, thereby ruining our chances for continuing our bid as a championship show choir." Rachel cocked her head with a sunny smile. "But I can oblige your request if you truly wish."

"No, no," Quinn responded with a bemused grin. "Your reaction was fine." She let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry…I guess I'm used to something more dramatic."

"While I appreciate your appreciation of my mannerisms and common disposition, I find that an individual's sexual orientation is no cause for dramatics. Your preferences bear no weight to how I feel about you. It is a basic fact, like your hair is blonde and your eyes are hazel."

"My hair isn't really blonde," Quinn felt compelled to admit.

Rachel's eyes grew wide as she sat up straighter and whipped around to her costar. "What?"

"I dye it." Quinn ducked her head, sifting a hand through her hair. "Don't you see the roots?"

Rachel craned her head up, eyeing said roots. "This is mind-blowing."

Quinn shrugged. "It's naturally a chestnut brown with a little bit of auburn."

Rachel seemed dazed. "I feel like you've just told me Barbra Streisand is a horrible singer."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

"Seriously," Rachel insisted. "It's like someone has challenged one of my fundamental beliefs." She narrowed her gaze at her costar. "Now, you're gonna tell me something truly mind-blowing…like Everett Michaels is also gay," she said, naming the latest ultra-macho action star to grace the big screen.

Quinn fidgeted uncomfortably, and something in her expression gave Rachel pause. "Oh my God, he _is_?"

Quinn shot her a significant look. "You _cannot_ tell anyone. He's so far in the closet, mothballs are scared to go back there."

"That…is _truly_ mind-blowing." Rachel contemplated that information. "So that Victoria's Secret model he's supposedly with?"

"His beard," Quinn affirmed. "She's a wonderful woman."

The way Quinn responded sent Rachel's sixth sense fluttering. "Wait…" She didn't say anything else, merely leveled Quinn with a look. The blonde stared resolutely forward, refusing to meet the brunette's gaze. Rachel wasn't deterred, propping her chin on Quinn's shoulder. Quinn made the mistake of turning to face Rachel and saw the big, brown doe eyes fluttering at her innocently.

"Geeze, fine! Alright, we _may have_ had a thing."

Rachel cocked an eyebrow. "So that's your type?" Rachel thought to the model in question. "Boobs, butt, and barely there intelligence?"

Quinn reached out and flicked Rachel's nose. "Aw, don't be jealous, Songbird. It was nothing," Quinn insisted, a blush staining her cheeks.

Rachel snorted. "Besides, how do _you_ know all this?"

Quinn winced. "I'd rather not. Everett is actually a good friend of mine, and I really don't want to have that memory dredged up into my consciousness again."

Rachel turned serious. "I'm honored that you shared that supremely personal part of yourself. Why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I'm a private person," Quinn admitted. "You know that. I don't let many people in. I'm not naïve enough or idealistic enough to believe that your reaction would be normal." Quinn grinned. "You're just special like that."

Rachel flipped her hair. "Well, duh."

Quinn chuckled before she sobered again. "I don't know…" she mumbled. "I guess I'm afraid that the relationships I have already as just artificial and will prove to be so if those people ever knew the truth. I've always been open about it, but I've learned that discreet is the way to go when dealing with it publically."

Rachel sighed. "Oh, Quinn." She reached over to grasp the blonde's hand. She shifted her grip so that their fingers entwined. "It hurts me to think that you've had to shield yourself out of fear." She dipped her head down, her eyes finding Quinn's. "When I told you that I liked you, I meant it. That meant every part of you: the closed off part that everyone sees, the nerdy part that only I see, the affectionate part only Charlie really sees." Rachel placed her free hand atop their entwined ones. "All of you."

Quinn's breath caught as she read the sincerity in Rachel's expression. She fought down tears.

"You're a great person, Quinn Lucas," Rachel murmured. "It hurts me to think that no one else takes the time to see that."

"No matter what happens after we finish this movie, I promise I will always be in your life."

Quinn smiled, shaking her head. "That's a nice thought, Rachel, but is it realistic?"

"Quinn, I am fully adept at keeping friendships I deem important. My continued correspondence with my high school and college friends can attest to that. You are very important to me. I won't let our friendship deteriorate just because we're not in close proximity." Rachel nodded resolutely. "And, as your friend and costar, any prospective romantic interests must be thoroughly vetted by me, Brittany, and Santana." Rachel smiled. "Because, you know, Santana likes you too, and she doesn't like many people."

"I'm honored," Quinn deadpanned.

"It's strange," Rachel remarked thoughtfully. "Despite your antagonistic beginning, Santana really has warmed to you. She's even asked to include you on a couple of our outings." Rachel's eyes narrowed. "She's not blackmailing you or anything, is she?"

Quinn's brow furrowed. "No. Would she?"

Rachel shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past her. Santana is highly protective."

Quinn chuckled. Santana was privy to some of her secrets, but she was certain the Latina would never divulge them to anyone – Brittany notwithstanding. "We just get each other."

Rachel smiled softly. "I'm glad." She stood from her bed. "Are you ready to head back down?"

"You go," Quinn answered. "I've gotta do something really quick."

Quinn drew out her cell phone and clicked over to the favorites section of her contact list. She tapped the top name on the list. The phone rang a few times before the familiar voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom."

"Quinnie?"

Quinn winced at the nickname. "Yeah, Mom, it's me."

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," Quinn reassured her mother. She knew from experience that if given enough time, Judy Thorton – formerly Fabray – would think up a million different morbid scenarios. "I'm in Ohio."

There was a pause, and the response was bewildered. Quinn couldn't blame her mother. Ohio didn't hold many fond memories. "What? Why?"

"You remember Rachel, the costar I was telling you about?"

"The one with the lovely singing voice? I watched the videos of her on YouTube. She's very talented."

"Yeah, her. One of her fathers is a police officer, and he's been shot. I'm here to support her."

"That's wonderful of you, Quinnie." Judy paused before she spoke again. "But that's not the reason you called, is it?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. She really _was_ transparent. "No. I…I came out to her."

"Quinn…" Judy breathed out in surprise. "That's quite the step. Why?"

"I...feel things for her, Mom," Quinn admitted. "And I don't know if it's a possibility, but I want it to be out there."

"And you want my advice?" Judy surmised.

"Yeah."

"Quinn, honey, you can't be afraid of love."

"But what if it doesn't work out?" Quinn mumbled. "I don't know if I can handle that."

"You tighten your belt, square your shoulders, and get out there again," Judy answered. "It's not easy, Quinnie, but it can be done. Believe me, I know."

Quinn absorbed that for a moment. Her mother _would_ know. She was a survivor.

"Don't be afraid of putting yourself out there because of some perceived obstacle," Judy advised. "Not trying is even worse than rejection because at least you've put yourself out there. You'll never know unless you try, baby."

Quinn sighed. Nothing was ever simple. "Thanks, Mom. Love you."

"Love you too, Quinnie. Just so you know, I'm rooting for you."

Quinn composed herself, thinking over her mother's words as she exited Rachel's room. She trumped down the stairs to find Rachel waiting at the bottom. "Hey, you didn't have to wait for me."

Rachel chuckled. "Sure I did. Otherwise, you would've wondered where everyone disappeared to."

Rachel led the way to the basement where the family was gathered, singing and dancing along. There was a large stage set in the middle of the room, surrounded by various instruments and a rather intricate karaoke machine. Quinn turned to Rachel.

"You have a stage in your basement?"

"Doesn't every budding star?"

Quinn didn't know how to answer that. She merely shrugged.

"It's not a Berry get-together without music," Rachel explained as her Auntie Loretta was finishing up a rendition of "Exhale (Shoop Shoop)" by Whitney Houston with backup from Brittany and Santana.

"Get that mopy shit outta here," Chuck bellowed, selecting his song and striding to the stage. "Gimme that microphone!"

Loretta scowled as Chuck shooed her away. "Damn, Chuck, just because you're named after the man don't mean you can _sing_ like the man…"

"Like hell I can't," Chuck argued. He pointed to Isaac manning the music. "Hit it, Ike!"

Everyone started laughing and dancing along as "The Way You Do the Things You Do" by The Temptations sounded through the speakers and Chuck began to boogie to the beat.

_You got a smile so bright  
><em>_You know you could have been a candle  
><em>_I'm holding you so tight  
><em>_You know you could have been a handle  
><em>_The way you swept me off my feet  
><em>_You know you could have been a broom  
><em>_The way you smell so sweet  
><em>_You know you could have been some perfume_

_Well you could have been anything that you want to  
><em>_And I can tell  
><em>_The way you do the things you do_

Quinn laughed as Chuck's enthusiastic performance turned infectious and she began bobbing to the beat before being swept into a dance by Rachel. She looked around to the motley group of people, singing and dancing together, one big family. She looked at the brunette holding her captive and grinned. There were no words. Just feelings.

"Alright, alright," Loretta conceded as Chuck ended his song with a bow. "So you got a little Chuck Berry in you."

"But can you look like a duck while playing the guitar?" Quinn posed innocently, a cheeky grin stretching across her features.

There was a moment of silence before the entire room burst out laughing, including Chuck.

"Oh, I like her," Lorraine proclaimed. "I like her a lot."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Later in the evening as the house cleared out, Lorraine, Chuck, Loretta, and Vivienne retreated to the hospital to check up on Miles. Isaac was up in the master bedroom, catching up on sleep before he had to return to his job the following morning. Shelby left earlier to return to her own home in Akron. Quinn and Rachel were up in her room, going over outfits for the brunette's dinner with Finn.

"This feels like high school," Quinn commented, reclining back on Rachel's bed as the little diva got ready for her date.

Rachel laughed, shaking her head. "Exactly," she agreed. "Only Brittany and Santana were in your spot." She disappeared for a moment before coming back out again and rotating in front of Quinn.

"What do you think of this?" Rachel asked. "This isn't trying too hard, is it?"

Quinn's breath caught as she took in the other woman. Rachel's petite form was poured into an aubergine lace dress that molded to her womanly curves. The cut itself didn't expose much of Rachel's torso with the boatneck collar and three quarter sleeves that hugged her slender arms. However, the hem fell just at mid-thigh, showing the expanse of Rachel's killer legs, supported in a pair of nude Louboutin platform, peep-toe pumps.

"Are you looking to impress him?"

"No," Rachel answered with a negligent wave of her hand. "Of course not. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look good, is there?"

Quinn smirked. "No, but I'm just wondering if you have some ulterior motive?"

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "Like what?"

Quinn shrugged. "You tell me."

Rachel scowled playfully. "I resent that implication, Quinn Lucas." She tossed her head one of the stray stuffed animals at the blonde. "I like intercourse just as much as any virile woman, but I do have standards."

"Then what do you call Brady?" Quinn challenged teasingly.

Rachel threw another animal, stomping her foot petulantly. "Quinn," she whined.

Quinn chuckled, dodging the projectile and catching it deftly. She was about to respond when she looked at the…droopy-looking elephant?…in her hand.

"What is this thing?"

"Mr. Snuffleupagus," Rachel answered promptly.

"_Gesundheit_," Quinn quipped. She frowned, trying to make sense of the animal. "What is he?"

"A wooly mammoth," Rachel responded from where she was doing her makeup. She looked at Quinn through the mirror. "Haven't you ever seen _The Muppets_?"

"No," Quinn answered. "The blue one with the wormlike nose scared me."

"I weep for your disparaged childhood," Rachel deadpanned. She peeked over at her costar out of the corner of her eye. "Are you sure you're alright staying here? I feel horrible leaving you here while I'm forced to humor him."

Quinn chuckled, shaking her head. "No, I'll be fine. I have a few scripts to go over for _Queen of Babble._" She smirked. "I'll have my phone nearby in case you send out an SOS."

Rachel sighed. "I should have just made some excuse. I'd rather spend time with you."

Quinn smirked. "Duh. We've been over this, Rach, I'm awesome."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "And oh-so modest too. It's no wonder you and Noah get along so well." She shot her costar a significant look. "He told me about your COD sessions."

Quinn pumped a fist with a silly grin. "Team Quick _for the win_."

"Seriously," Rachel drawled, "what _would_ your fans think if they knew how much of a nerd you really are?"

Quinn smirked. "That's never going to happen. The Nerd!Quinn is to be kept close to the chest."

With a final swipe of her mascara brush, Rachel turned back to Quinn. "Well?"

Her deep brown eyes popped from the smoky look, subtly highlighting one of her best features. Her hair fell casually over a shoulder in light waves, secured at the base of her neck in a low ponytail, a few tendrils framing her features. She took Quinn's breath away.

"You look gorgeous, Rachel. You're naturally beautiful. Whatever you wear only enhances that."

Rachel smiled. She looked up as the doorbell sounded. "Can you get the door while I finish up?"

Quinn nodded, tearing her eyes away from the stunning vision before her. Taking a deep breath to compose herself, she made her way down the steps and to the foyer. With a hefty sigh, she opened the door.

Finn hovered in the doorway. Quinn swept a covert gaze up and down the man. He was dressed in a pair of tan dress pants, a navy blue checked dress shirt, and a two button navy blue sport coat. His hair was arranged in an upwardly swept, casually tousled style, and a boyishly charming grin tilted one side of his mouth. One hand was casually resting in his pocket, the other clutching a bouquet of roses. It was obvious he was trying to make quite the impression. Unfortunately, it wasn't the person he wanted to make an impression on. The grin faded slightly as he took in Quinn framed in the entrance.

"Uh, you're not Rachel."

Quinn cocked an eyebrow, raking her eyes down her own body. Perhaps it was a bit malicious, but she wanted to capitalize on the rather insipid comment. She didn't like the tall man, and she really doubted his seemingly innocent intentions to take Rachel out 'just to catch up.'

"Yeah, I can see how you could mistake the two of us."

Finn flushed bright red and shuffled awkwardly. "Is she ready?"

Quinn shook her head, stepping back to let him in. "She'll be down in a second."

He fidgeted under the scrutinizing stare, breaking the silence. "So…you and Rachel are working together?"

Quinn leaned against the banister of the stairwell, a picture of cool and elegant nonchalance. "Yup."

"It's cool that you came back with her," Finn offered. "You know, to help her through all this."

Quinn shrugged. "She's my friend. If she needs me, I'll be there."

"I didn't know you were so…er, _nice_…" Finn commented.

There was something behind the innocent tone, and Quinn's eyes hardened. Hazel bolts of fire tore into Finn. "You don't know me."

"I know what people say about you," Finn challenged. "All the stuff in the newspapers and magazines and stuff."

Quinn chuckled, shaking her head.

Finn looked uneasy at her reaction. He bristled defensively. "What's so funny?"

"If all the things the tabloids and other media outlets said about me were true, I'd be…" Quinn thought about the latest drivel she had heard from her publicist, "…a transsexual, coke head, part-time stripper with two love children, one apparently by an indie film director from a desperate point early in my career and the other by Congo, the rapper with that rap supergroup." She cocked an eyebrow. "You shouldn't believe everything you read."

His eyes narrowed. "What's your angle with Rachel?"

Quinn shrugged. "Again, she's my friend. There's no angle." Her eyes glinted with the shrewd intelligence she was known for. "The question is: what's _yours_?" She circled around the taller man.

"Red roses, freshly pressed pants," she sniffed, "fairly expensive cologne…this isn't just a casual dinner," Quinn surmised.

Finn puffed up proudly. "I'm gonna try and win her back," he proclaimed.

Quinn looked nonplussed. "How?"

"I'm gonna remind her how good things were between us."

"Here?" Quinn answered drolly. "In Lima? A place she couldn't wait to get out of?"

"This was her hometown," Finn defended. "She has ties here. It worked before."

"Yeah," Quinn agreed. "_Before_ she got a taste of Broadway and Hollywood. What does Lima have that those two don't?"

"Me," Finn answered pompously. "Her dads, her mom, memories…"

"And on Broadway and Hollywood, she has her dreams," Quinn shot back. "Dreams her parents couldn't wait for her to achieve. She's living the life she's been dreaming about since she won her first dance competition at three months-old – something I'm totally gonna look into if only for the teasing factor. And right now, you're telling me you want to take her away from that?"

Finn only glared. He really didn't have a response for that.

Quinn sighed. She felt sorry for the guy, as delusional as he obviously was. She decided to throw Finn a bone. "Look, man, I'm just helping you out. You're setting yourself up for disappointment. You knew Rachel before; I get that and I respect that. I know Rachel now, and believe me when I say she would never be satisfied with a place like this. Let me tell you right now, once this movie hits and people get a glimpse of what she can do, America is going to fall in love with her. Even more doors will be opened and ever more opportunities will fall at her feet." She leveled him with a look. "Do you really want to be the one who tries to take that away?"

Finn's glare intensified, but Quinn remained unaffected. He drew himself up. "We'll see who's right after tonight."

Quinn smirked. "Good luck with that, Champ."

The argument stalled as Rachel appeared at the base of the stairs. She descended down, an eyebrow slightly upraised at the obvious tension between Quinn and Finn. She didn't ask, however, merely turning to her dinner companion.

"Good evening, Finn."

Finn shouldered past Quinn to stand before Rachel, his boyish grin tilting a corner of his mouth. "Wow. You look hot." He thrust the flowers forward. "Here."

Rachel smiled. "Thank you. They're lovely."

As she retreated to the kitchen to put the flowers in water, Finn took the opportunity to shoot Quinn a triumphant, smug smirk. Quinn rolled her eyes. Roses weren't even Rachel's favorite flower.

Rachel returned back into the foyer, plucking a cream wool coat from the rack by the door and searching through for everything that she would need in the small clutch clasped in one hand. As Finn stood by the doorway, shifting from foot to foot, obviously impatient to depart, Quinn couldn't help but sigh. She stepped up behind Rachel, taking the coat gently from the other girl and holding it obligingly up so that Rachel could slip her arms in the sleeves. The little diva shot a grateful smile at the blonde as she flipped her hair out from underneath the collar.

"Thanks, Quinn." She returned her attention back to Finn. "Shall we go?"

Finn nodded. "Yeah, totally."

Rachel turned back to Quinn, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "Bye, Quinn."

Quinn playfully tugged on the end of Rachel's ponytail. "See you, Songbird."

Finn led the way out the door and to their transportation for the night. Rachel gazed dubiously up at the old, gray Toyota truck. Normally, she wouldn't have troubles with such a vehicle, but Finn had lifted the body so high that it proved to be quite an obstacle towards actually sitting within said truck.

"Rach? What are you waiting for?"

Rachel merely cast a glance at the significant distance from her current location to the looming door.

"Oh, uh…right. Yeah, just give me a second." Finn hopped down from the driver's seat, holding her by the hand to help her up into the truck. "Sorry. I totally forgot how tiny you were."

Rachel settled herself in the seat. She was glad for the long hem of her coat in case any paparazzi were in the vicinity as she was fairly certain she had flashed anyone in view behind her trying to get up into the truck.

"Breadstix." Finn answered brightly. "I figured you would like a blast from the past."

"Breadstix," Rachel repeated with a wan smile. "Great." She looked down at herself with a sigh. A pretty dress such as this one was wasted on Breadstix.

xxx-xxx-xxx

The drive to Breadstix wasn't long, and Finn ran to the passenger door to escort her to the ground after pulling into a parking spot. Thankful to be on the solid pavement rather than the rickety truck, Rachel nearly kissed the ground before she took her hand back, feigning looking through her clutch to avoid his next transparent gesture, which was to keep her hand in his.

As she entered the restaurant, she was thankful that none of the paparazzi had caught wind of her outing as no flashes greeted her as she made her way to the hostess. The woman glanced up as Rachel approached, and her eyes went wide. "Oh, wow, you're Rachel Berry."

Rachel smiled. "Good evening."

The hostess flipped frantically through the book. "Did you have a reservation, Miss Berry?"

Rachel looked to her companion expectantly. Finn cringed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, no. I completely forgot."

The blonde hostess wasn't so impressed with the tall man's lack of foresight, but seemed to be more conciliatory to his guest as she flashed a smile to Rachel. "That's fine. We'll have a seat for you right away, Miss Berry."

Rachel smiled warmly. "That's very kind of you to accommodate us, but would you terribly mind if we had a table not in view of the windows?"

"Certainly, Miss Berry." The blonde gestured towards the back of the restaurant. "We have a few tables that provide the ultimate privacy."

Rachel smiled. "Thank you."

A handsome young man, barely out of high school sidled up to the table as the hostess settled them in. "Good evening, I'm Shawn. I'll be your server." He drew in a deep breath as his eyes rested on Rachel. "Miss Berry…I heard you were in town, but…wow. I'm such a huge fan. I've been to both of your shows, and you were exquisite."

Rachel beamed. She loved meeting fans. "Thank you, Shawn. I'm glad you liked the performances."

Shawn looked as though he was composing himself. Clearing his throat, he pulled out a pad and pen. "May I start you off with some drinks?"

Finn spoke first. "Yeah, I'll have a Sam Adams."

"Miss Berry?"

Rachel looked down at the wine list. "I'll have the Sauvignon Blanc, please."

"Glass or bottle, Miss Berry?"

"Glass is fine, Shawn."

Finn cut in as Rachel handed back the wine menu. "Hey, man, just bring the bottle." He winked at Rachel. "It's on me."

Shawn nodded, making the note on his pad. "Sure."

Rachel smiled at the gesture. "Thanks, Finn, but that was highly unnecessary. I don't normally drink more than two glasses during dinner."

Finn waved a hand. "I figured it's a nice restaurant, and this is the first time we've seen each other in awhile. I'm going all-out."

Shawn smiled, sliding the pad back into his apron. "I'll be right back with your drinks."

Finn fidgeted, rubbing his hands on his pants nervously. "Is that weird? Having people recognize you and stuff?"

Rachel smiled. "Not really. It's actually quite a thrill. It's when it becomes invasive or intrusive that it's a bit unnerving."

Finn nodded eagerly. "So, you're doing movies now?"

Rachel nodded. "Yeah. I had just finished a run with _Chicago_ when Chris Keller, the director, called me. He was looking to recast the role of the love interest, and he had found me after the _New York Times_ ran a piece on me."

"And you're in Hollywood?"

"Yup. Me, Brittany, and Santana."

Finn grinned. "That's cool. You probably like run into movie stars all the time."

"A few," Rachel hedged. She nodded her thanks as Shawn as he slid the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and Finn's Sam Adams onto the table. Rachel took a drink of her wine, knowing the alcohol would help her get through this evening.

"And you're okay with playing gay?"

"Of course," Rachel answered. "I'm playing a great character with a great story, a great cast, and a great director, and I really think that this project is important for both the message it conveys and the fact that my character is gay is merely a vehicle for an issue that needs to be addressed and made human."

"But don't you not want people to get the wrong idea about you?" Finn asked. "I mean, what if people start thinking you're…you know, _gay_?"

Rachel laughed. "I'm a fairly famous celebrity, Finn. It's nothing new that people talk about me. They're always going to be talking about me, and not all of the talk is going to be true. If I go buy groceries and use my own bag instead of one of their plastic bags, someone is going to get the wrong idea about me."

Finn scratched his head. "But isn't that, I don't know…weird?"

Rachel shrugged. "It was at first, but now it's just an unfortunate collateral of what I do. I've become a public figure. My life is now subjected to scrutiny."

Finn seemed to have a hard time wrapping his head around that idea. "Yeah, but you don't want to get like a reputation, do you?"

"I do have a reputation," Rachel corrected. "I'm known as a consistent performer who works hard, but who may have a slight diva tendency. Everyone has a reputation in this business, Finn. Good or bad, it doesn't take long for someone to pin you as something or other." She took a sip of her wine. "Sexuality only plays so much of a role. It's not uncommon for a straight actor to play a gay character and vice versa, Finn. The greater world isn't quite as close-minded as we are in Lima."

Their conversation stalled as Shawn sidled up to the table. "Are you two ready to order?"

Finn gestured to Rachel to order first. She smiled up at the young man. "I'll have the garden salad with a side of the minestrone soup."

"That's all you're ordering?" Finn grinned. "C'mon, Rachel, it's on me! Order whatever you want."

"I'm afraid my meal selections are limited to the salads," Rachel returned. "Breadstix never really catered to me."

She could see the confusion in his dark eyes and inwardly sighed. It wouldn't be the first time Finn forgot about her preferences.

"Vegan, Finn," Rachel reminded.

His brow furrowed as he thought hard about the word for a moment. She could see the gears turning…slowly, but turning nonetheless. Finally, the proverbial light bulb flickered over his head. "Oh, right…that's the animal thing."

"Yes," Rachel intoned dryly. "That's the animal thing."

"Oh…" He glanced up to the waiter who was waiting for his own order. "I'll have the stuffed chicken marsala and the garlic mashed potatoes."

Shawn nodded, writing both orders down. "Sounds good. Those will be out in a bit."

Rachel took a sip of her wine. "So how's McKinley's football team doing?"

Finn smiled, taking a drink of his beer. "Not too bad. We've won a couple of games, but the team's not as good as when I played. It's fun to work with the kids, though."

"That's good," Rachel responded sincerely. "I'm glad it's working out for you."

"Yeah." Finn nodded enthusiastically. "It's interesting seeing what's goes on behind the scenes. Like earlier this week, Coach and I had to present a proposal to the school board about retiring Puck's number. I mean, Coach hasn't let anyone use his number since he left, but now it will be all official and everything."

"And how did you contribute to the proceedings?"

Finn shrugged disinterestedly. "Well, I mean, Coach did most of it. She did like all of the talking. I kinda just sat there, but it was really cool."

Rachel grinned. "That's still amazing news! Noah will be very surprised and pleased."

"Yeah," Finn agreed. "It's so crazy to think he's going to play in the Super Bowl. Did you catch the AFC championship game?"

"Of course," Rachel answered. "I've never missed any of Noah's games if I can help it. I've even been to a couple when he's at home. San Diego is a bit of a ways for the Los Angeles area, but he's been able to secure a couple of tickets."

"It's weird to think of him in the NFL," Finn commented. "It was like all of a sudden, it all fell in his lap. You looked up in the stands, and there were scouts from some pretty huge schools, but no one knew who they were there for. I didn't even know he was the guy until he started popping up on like the sports channels and there was that big thing on signing day."

"Noah was very proactive in his college pursuit, Finn," Rachel corrected. "He made many skills videos and sent them out to college recruiters, Daddy drove Noah to dozens of developmental camps and showcases, he even earned a spot as an All-American. It's not really fair to say that he was just handed his scholarship, he made the strides to ensure that he would go _somewhere_."

"Easy, Rachel," Finn placated. "I'm just saying that no one could have possibly seen all that coming. Everyone thought he was just gonna be another Lima Loser."

Rachel felt offended for Puck. "_Everyone_ tended to hold onto Puck's bad decisions," Rachel defended hotly. "No one could see past them, and it's ridiculous that the same people who looked down on him are the same people who can now be labeled as pathetic sycophants."

Finn took a long drink, tugging absently at his shirt collar. "Wow, I didn't mean to make you mad."

Rachel sighed. "Sorry, I just get annoyed when I hear people call him a Lima Loser. He hid his potential behind his delinquency, but if people would have taken the time to get to know him behind his ridiculous reputation, they would have found an extremely sincere and hard-working young man. Even people closest to him never saw anything past his reputation as a manwhore. You included, Finn, and you called yourself his 'bro.'"

Finn frowned. "C'mon, Rach. It was easy to. I mean, c'mon, the guy used a pool-cleaning business to sleep with cougars, not to mention that pregnancy scare he had sophomore year."

Again, Rachel sighed. "Perhaps we should just agree to disagree on this one, Finn."

He frowned again, nodding as he took a bite of his food. "Sure."

xxx-xxx-xxx

The rest of the dinner flew by without much fanfare. Their conversation stalled even more and became silted as both avoided controversial topics. As Finn paid the check, Rachel was happy to sign an autograph for Shawn before they left the table. The smile on her face faded, however, as she spotted the paparazzi hovering outside of the restaurant. There was no getting out of it. Before stepping out into the fray, she tugged Finn down to her level and whispered in his ear. "Keep your head down, keep walking, and don't say anything. I repeat: DO NOT say anything."

Finn nodded, absolutely bewildered at the chaos as he followed Rachel to the truck.

_"Miss Berry! Miss Berry! Who is this?"_

_ "Rachel, is this your new boyfriend?"_

_ "Miss Berry! Is he the real reason you came back to your hometown?"_

Rachel didn't answer, merely kept on pace to Finn's truck and waited patiently for him to open the door. Accepting his help into the vehicle, she waited for him to jog around to the driver's side and start the car.

"Drive, Finn," she ordered.

"But…" he gestured to the mass of paparazzi in front of his truck.

Rachel waved a negligent hand. "They'll move. They have their shots. Just don't run anyone over, and you'll be fine."

Finn inched forward, obviously dubious. Sure enough, after a few more flashes, they backed away from the car. As they drove off in the wake of even more flashbulbs, Finn turned to Rachel.

"What the hell was that?"

Rachel held up a hand, asking for a moment before turning her attention to her phone. "Hey, Jocelyn…Yeah, I'm fine, a bunch of paps just caught me out with Finn at Breadstix. No, it was just a casual dinner to catch up…No, I didn't comment." Rachel listened for a moment before she nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Jazz. Yeah, tomorrow evening…Awesome, thanks. Bye." As she ended the call, she caught Finn's eye.

"My publicist," she offered as an explanation. "She's gonna take care of everything. And that," she gestured vaguely behind them. "Was just another glamorous part of the Hollywood lifestyle: Running away from rabid paparazzi."

Finn nodded numbly. He was silent for a while before he spoke again. "Have you thought about us since we broke up?"

Rachel's brow furrowed as she registered the question. It seemed rather random; given the lack of their conversation, and she wasn't expecting that particular question. "Honestly?"

Finn nodded. "Yeah."

Rachel bit her lip, not wanting to hurt him. "Not really. That was a long time ago, and I was different then."

"I think about us a lot," Finn announced, seemingly unfazed at Rachel's statement. "I took us for granted when we were together. I wish we could've had another shot."

"And how exactly would we have worked, Finn?" Rachel posed. "Say we stayed together senior year, how would we have worked with me going off to New York?"

Finn shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I would have followed you or something."

Rachel looked bewildered. "And what would you have done, Finn?"

"Worked or something, I guess," Finn answered. "I mean, something would have worked out, right?"

"How?" Rachel posed exasperatedly. "Finn, you would have had a high school diploma with no work experience, no knowledge of the city you were moving to, and no plans for college. And that's not to mention how destructive our relationship was in high school…"

Finn puffed up defensively. "Look, I get there would be some sacrifice or something…"

"Sacrifice…" Rachel repeated. "Exactly _who_ would be sacrificing, Finn?" She eyed her ex-boyfriend. "Do you know what I did in college, Finn?"

Finn shrugged. "I don't know, go to school?"

"When I wasn't studying, I was auditioning. When I wasn't auditioning, I worked at a coffee shop near campus and at a bar as a waitress. That left very little time for a social life."

Finn looked at her blankly, and she could see he wasn't following her. Rachel sighed and explained her line of thinking. "When we were dating, you constantly blew me off for your buddies but then whined when I didn't pay you enough attention. If you were like that in high school when I didn't have nearly as much of a load, what makes you think it would have been any better when I barely had any free time to myself?"

"We had it good in high school, Rach."

"That was high school, Finn," Rachel reminded him. "I am in no way the same girl I was at sixteen."

"I know that," Finn insisted. "But Lima is where you came from. Don't they always say to not forget where you came from?"

Rachel didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to look at the man beside him. She studied him with the intuitiveness cultivated from her years in New York and her exposure to the greater world and its many personalities. There was a naivety in Finn's gaze, the same idealism that shone in Mr. Schuester's own eyes. It was the notion that they truly believed that the world didn't change, that people were static, that fate took care of everything; if it was meant to be, it would happen. Mr. Schuester nurtured his idealism in that a pervasive identity as the underdog would garner them accolades, that effort was all that mattered, that heart would prevail over preparation. Finn did the same as he remained in the same bubble he did when he was in high school.

But Rachel was beyond that. She was privy to the world that existed beyond Lima, Ohio. She had tasted her first heartbreak during her freshman year of Tisch where the stark realization came that despite her immense talent, she was among others with comparable talent, similar drive, yet with more experience. Rachel Berry couldn't rely on just her talent anymore. She had to fortify her gumption if she wanted to succeed. And she was willing to do so. She was willing to put in the work to ensure success, not leave it up to fate or destiny.

"You don't get it, do you Finn?"

Finn frowned. "Get what?"

"When we were together, I was suffocated in this little town," Rachel began. "People wanted me to dim my light, to not shine as bright as I knew I could so that other people could feel special. I was only allowed to shine when it was beneficial to them. They _wanted_ me to fail."

He opened his mouth to respond, but Rachel cut him off. "I'm in a place where I don't have to dim my star, Finn. I can shine as bright as I want to and I'm loved for it. People _want_ me to shine. They want me to shine as bright as I can."

"You can shine here, Rach," Finn protested.

"Where, Finn?" Rachel challenged. "Where is a place even close to Broadway or Hollywood? Where would I perform?"

"There are theatres in like Columbus or Cincinnati or something," Finn defended weakly. "You could be happy here. This is your home."

"This hasn't been my home for a very long time, Finn," Rachel responded. "I will never forget the place I came from, but I'm not done dreaming. I want to keep reaching for the stars, I want to keep searching for something else to dream about, and most of all, I want to keep doing what I love in a place that accepts me without qualms."

They stopped in front of the Berry house, and Rachel didn't wait for Finn to help her out of the car. She shoved open the door and started the walk up the driveway.

"Rachel…"

Rachel sighed exasperatedly, whirling back around. "What, Finn?"

He didn't say anything else, merely snatched her up by the arms and pressed his lips to hers.

Thoroughly taken aback, Rachel squeaked in surprise, allowing Finn to slip his tongue in. He leaned in further, his eyes closed as though the pressure would sweep her off her feet. She struggled, squirming in his grip before she managed to break his hold and push him back. Finn looked so triumphant as though his stunt would magically flip a switch in her mind that Rachel snapped and stepped forward to deliver a ringing slap to his face.

"What the hell, Finn?"

Surprised at the sudden shock of pain, it took him a moment to catch his bearings. "Rachel, I miss you."

"So that excuses your behavior?" Rachel wiped frantically at her lips, wanting to spit to rid herself of the taste. "Are you insane? Have you not been listening to me at all tonight?"

Finn looked confused. She had never had this sort of reaction before. In high school, when he used to pull that stunt, she had swooned and melted in his arms. Now, there was something in her eyes, something he had never seen before.

"Rachel…I love you," he stammered. "I've always loved you."

"It's not enough, Finn." Rachel backed away from him. "I'm sorry, but it truly isn't enough. You can love me with all your heart, but you will never understand me."

"Rachel, how can you say that?" He pleaded. "I've known you for years."

"You knew who I was, Finn," Rachel corrected. "Not who I am. Who I am right now will never want to stay in Lima and will never want you. I know what's out there in the world, and it's got things that are beyond my wildest dreams. This place…" she gestured vaguely to her surroundings, "It's in my past. I live in the present and I look forward to the future. I'm sorry, Finn, but you don't fit into either."

With those words, she turned, walked into the house, and shut the door. Finn stood there for a very long time, his cheek smarting and his mind working in an attempt to figure out where he went wrong.

She didn't look back, he realized. Not once.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel sighed, closing the door and leaning against it. She cursed the stupidity of Finn Hudson, cursed her own stupidity for putting herself into that position. She trumped into the living room and jumped when she found Quinn perched on the couch, hunched over a laptop.

"Hey, what are you doing up?"

Quinn glanced up at the address and smiled. "I told Isaac I'd wait up for you." She gestured down to her laptop laid open on the coffee table. "Just checking my emails. Our call time's at eight when we get back."

Rachel nodded, grateful Chris had allotted them some time to make sure Miles was alright. She cocked her head as she noticed a new accessory adorning Quinn's features. "I didn't know you wore glasses."

Quinn blushed, adjusting the square, wire frames so that they perched more comfortably on the bridge of her nose. "I wear contacts normally, but sometimes I need to wear the glasses to let my eyes breathe."

"They suit you. You look cute."

Quinn's blush deepened. "How'd it go?"

Rachel wrinkled her nose, putting her attention to the heels at her feet. She hopped on one foot, trying to contort her body to get a shoe off and was currently failing miserably. Quinn chuckled and rose from the couch. She walked over to Rachel and held the smaller woman by the waist so that Rachel could slip off her heels.

Rachel groaned her thanks. "To answer your question, it went horribly. He wants to get back together."

Quinn frowned, retreating back to the couch. "That seems rather ridiculous. You haven't seen him since you left for college."

"It is!" Rachel disappeared for a moment to change out of her dress before trumping back down the stairs in a tiny tank top and a pair of loose sweatpants. She plopped down beside the blonde.

"He kept pressing the issue, saying how I would be happy here, then when I told him it wouldn't work out, he just…_kissed me_," Rachel ranted. "Like that would magically change my mind."

Quinn's eyes narrowed and she quite visibly bristled. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No, no," Rachel placated her costar. "I pushed him away and slapped him."

Quinn smirked. "You slapped him?"

Rachel blushed sheepishly. "I just got mad…"

"So you'll slap Finn but you won't slap Brady?"

"Quinn!" Rachel scolded. "I am normally not a proponent of physical violence!"

"Could have fooled me," Quinn snorted. She pointed to her torso where Rachel had clipped her the day they had filmed Sloane and Mia's first kiss. "You nailed me pretty good."

Rachel's nose turned up in protest. "Not my fault you didn't block when you were supposed to."

"If you _kicked_ when you were supposed to, we wouldn't have that problem," Quinn countered.

Rachel sobered. "Did I really hurt you?"

Quinn smirked. "No. As if your tiny, little feet could do much damage."

Rachel's mouth dropped open, her eyes narrowed, and a said tiny, little foot extended out, smacking Quinn lightly on the leg. "Jerk."

Quinn's smirk widened. "Sorry, you're just really easy to tease."

Rachel's nose wrinkled playfully. "I know," she deadpanned. "You take every opportunity I give you."

"One more, then I promise I'll shut up for the rest of the night."

This time, it was Rachel's turn to cock an eyebrow. "Just for the rest of the night?"

Quinn nodded with a slightly devilish look. "Well, yeah. We can't bar Chris from his daily entertainment."

Rachel tilted her head. "True. Alright, shoot."

"Did anyone ever tell you how ridiculous you look standing next to him?"

Rachel scowled. "While I admit that his rather lofty stature–"

"Makes you look like a toddler beside him," Quinn interjected.

"Was not ideal," Rachel corrected. "But it's not like I took his height into account when making the decision whether or not to engage in a romantic relationship with him."

"C'mon, Rachel, you had to have known how ridiculous you looked. You were at his kneecaps!"

"Alright, yes, there were moments where I had to insist he stand at the foot of a staircase while I occupied the step above, but he was very accommodating when stooping down to me."

Quinn only laughed. "Now that really does make me wonder how it didn't work out."

Rachel sobered. She sighed, leaning her head back against the couch. She wrapped her arms around her upraised leg. "Sometimes, I really do wonder how I fell in love with him."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, just seeing him now, still in Lima, essentially still stuck in the same place we were eight years ago, it just made me really realize just how different our visions of the future were."

Quinn nodded her understanding. "You were destined to end up anywhere but here."

"Yeah," Rachel agreed. "And he's…"

"He's stuck in his hometown reminiscing with his buddies over the glory days of high school because they were the best years of his life," Quinn answered, reciting Rachel's rhetoric from her famous gold star metaphor.

Rachel's eyes softened. It never ceased to amaze her just how much Quinn listened to her. "Yeah. Did you know he proposed to me in high school?"

Quinn's nose wrinkled. "Really?"

"Yeah. It was absurd since we had been broken up since the end of junior year."

"So what?" Quinn asked. "He just decided, 'Hey, we haven't been together for a while, but I want to marry you anyway?'"

Rachel sighed. "He was very lost senior year. He tends to be very dependent on other people to tell him how to conduct himself rather than being proactive and taking the appropriate steps himself. I suppose he wanted to hang onto something he knew was special to him, but his reasoning was so that I would have something from Lima to take with me into the big city."

"Why did you need something from Lima in New York?" Quinn asked.

Rachel huffed. "To remind myself that I always had Lima for better or for worse."

Quinn chuckled. "Wow. Well, you do have Lima, but you also have New York and Hollywood. You may have been born in Lima, but you earned the latter two."

Rachel smiled. "I did, didn't I?"

"So how did he think this whole thing would work?" Quinn asked. "I mean, he seems very content here."

"Yeah," Rachel agreed. "When I asked him what he would do in New York, he said he wasn't sure. His rationale ended in 'or something.'"

"Charming," Quinn quipped. "Riding your coattails to reap the benefits of your success."

"Finn is a decent guy," Rachel defended weakly. "He's just too…weak minded, too swayed by other people's opinions. He was all his mother had so she doted on him. God love her, she really is a sweet woman, but her doting had a very averse effect to his development. He assumed people would always guide him along when he was lost, then when things didn't quite go according to plan, he would revert to the childish behavior of a five year-old."

Quinn nodded. "I could see how that would hinder a relationship."

Rachel quirked a sad smile. "There are worse men out there then Finn. He's just…misguided and lost in a fantasy world. It was difficult for us here in Lima. It would have been impossible in New York. He would have been so insecure in our relationship and irrationally jealous, swearing up and down I was cheating on him with whatever male lead I was working with at the time."

"He didn't fit into your world," Quinn surmised.

"No," Rachel agreed. "I don't think he ever did. No matter how hard I tried to make it so, the truth was, we were two different people. There's nothing wrong with wanting to stay in Lima, but that was never satisfying for me. I knew I had a dream, and I didn't let anything dissuade me from achieving it. Finn talked about his ambitions, his wishes to get out of Lima, but he never took any proactive steps towards actually fulfilling either desire. He waited for opportunity to come to him then whined and pouted when nothing came to fruition."

"'Opportunity does not knock. It presents itself when you beat down the door,'" Quinn recited.

"Precisely," Rachel agreed. "I think if I stayed with Finn, I would have settled. I would have let him drain the ambition from me. I would have been alright with staying in Lima."

"That would have been a disservice to the world," Quinn murmured. "You really are like the gold stars you're so fond of. You shine so bright, and it's so infectious. To have would have robbed the world of to your amazing talent would have been an atrocity to the arts. You pull people in with that talent, then lend them some of your radiance so that they shine just as bright as you do."

"Quinn, you give me too much credit," Rachel scolded lightly. "Surely you can't honestly say I'm as generous as you make me."

"Sure I can," Quinn refuted. "That's what you did to me. If I had never met you, I would have been the same Ice Queen I always was. No one would have known my nerdy side, or my affectionate side. You brought that out of me, Rachel. Somehow, you chiseled your way through the ice and brought out the me buried underneath. You may be the only person that sees it, but at least it's out there, and I'm thankful for that."

Rachel pressed a hand to her heart, truly touched. "Quinn…"

"You were never meant to stay in Lima, Rachel," Quinn declared strongly. "You were meant for Broadway lights and Hollywood stars. You were meant to shine."

She said it with such conviction that Rachel found it difficult to breathe. She think she had an idea what that previously unidentified emotion was in Quinn's eyes, but she dared not acknowledge it. She wasn't ready to. Still, the realization was there, clear as day. Still, she had to make certain.

"Quinn, can I ask you a hypothetical?"

Quinn cocked her head, unsure of the new direction in their conversation. "Sure."

"If we were together in New York and I told you there was this amazing role that required me to move to LA, what would you do?"

"I'd kick your ass if you weren't on a plane the next day," Quinn answered promptly. "I wouldn't care if it meant we'd be doing the long-distance thing or I'd be following you across the country. You don't pass up opportunities, Rach. Not in this business." Quinn shrugged. "Our relationship would work itself out, but I'd truly be remiss if I would have held you back in any way."

Rachel once again looked at Quinn. Really _looked_ at her. And in that moment, Rachel Berry found that she could very well fall in love with Quinn Lucas.

_Well…it looks like Rachel's gained some perspective on her relationship. Now, the question becomes what is she going to do about it? This is the point where the Faberry wheels start moving. I hope this chapter wasn't too random or irreverent, it's kind of a transitional point so some things may not seem important but actually play a significant part to the greater scheme. Coming up, we wrap up Lima with a few other things and head back to the set of _Duty and Honor_ where a steamy scene between Sloane and Mia forces Quinn and Rachel to confront some truths._

_ Basically, with what I have planned, Quinn and Rachel's relationship is going to evolve as every relationship naturally does. Both of them are obviously hesitant on putting themselves out there for their respective reasons. As you've probably guessed, Rachel is the one who must reconcile this notion of a romantic relationship with Quinn. She has already acknowledged her physical attraction but now she must connect with the emotional repercussions. I promise you guys will like where this goes!_

_*ISP_


	12. Chapter 11

_I am so sorry! I wish I had like a supremely awesome excuse for this two month gap in updates, but real life got in the way. First, a weird flu wreaked havoc at work, then I caught the weird flu. I'm also studying to take the LSAT in June, so a lot of my effort is being put into that as well. I hope this makes up for it!_

_I also don't really know much about USC's academic programs other than what I've heard from friends and what I was able to research from the Internet, so if this is inaccurate and someone wants to shed light on it, that would be awesome. Baby Bonnie's is a fictional coffee house, modeled after my own college coffee house where a lot of this story was created._

_Also, there will be some lady lovin' in this chapter and throughout the rest of the story, so I will be upping the rating permanently. Lol, also keep in mind that realistically, the D&H movie wouldn't go into that much detail with Sloane/Mia's love scene and keep the optimal PG-13 rating I'd imagine this story would have, but for the sake of the story, I'm indulging you all a little bit._

_I was a little anxious on getting this chapter out, so there might be a few mistakes. I'll be back to fix them, though!_

_Onward, ye patient readers!_

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 11<span>

_**The moment Quinn came to the realization that she was gay, it was like the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. For a long time, she had cultivated an image from her very first day as Quinn. She played her part perfectly, but there was something missing. She felt as thought something was holding her back from a full realization of who she was.**_

_** Quinn curled up in her favorite seat at her favorite coffee shop. The campus held many places for coffee, mostly chain places like Starbucks or Caribou, but not many people knew about Baby Bonnie's. It was an out of the way shop, tucked into a corner and easily overlooked in favor of the larger chains nearby, but that was why she loved it so much. It was a place to get away from the bustle of campus life, an isolated little hovel that only a few people knew about.**_

_** The bell over the door jingled, and Quinn looked up to find Declan entering the shop. He dropped his backpack in the seat beside her before heading towards the barista.**_

_** Moments later as he plopped down into the chair, coffee in hand, he let out a deep sigh, taking a long sip of his usual caramel mocha.**_

_** "Long day?"**_

_** Declan huddled down in his seat, rubbing a hand over his hair. "The usual," he grunted. "School…practice…" he took another drink, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dude, I'm just over the crap."**_

_** Quinn nodded. "I hear you."**_

_** Declan stretched his long arms over his head. "How is Gwen doing on finding your next job?"**_

_** Quinn crossed her legs, leaning against one of the armrests. "She has me auditioning for pilot season. There's this one series I'm really intrigued with. It's by the same woman who wrote the **_**Princess Diaries**_** series."**_

_** "Awesome. You think you'll get it?"**_

_** Quinn shrugged. "Hope so. From what I've read of the script, I really like the tone of the pilot. It's fun, lighthearted, not too heavy…"**_

_** Declan smirked. "So basically your exact opposite."**_

_** Quinn rolled her eyes. "Basically."**_

_** "This might be a good get for you," Declan remarked. "If anything, you could tap into that whimsical side I know you have but don't ever show."**_

_** "I guess," Quinn admitted.**_

_**Declan cocked an eyebrow. "So you're really thinking about doing this acting thing as a career?"**_

"_**Yeah," Quinn answered. "I mean, I know I kind of just fell into it, but something about it is just…I don't know…**_**right**_**, I guess."**_

_** Declan grinned, the dimples in his cheeks deepening cutely. "Well, I'm happy for you, Q. I can't wait until I can say my best friend is a TV star." He leaned forward, eyebrows wiggling. "Think you could hook me up with Olivia Wilde when you get famous?"**_

_** Quinn merely laughed and shook her head, pushing him back into his seat.**_

_** Declan leaned back as the door opened, and his eyebrows shot up as he spotted Rosalie Cardone, a USC Song Girl he had a massive crush on and knew casually through the large and loyal athletics community.**_

_** "But until then…"**_

_** Quinn rolled her eyes, waving him away. "Go on."**_

_** "Thanks!" Declan snagged his coffee and bag, running a hand through his short, tousled curly hair. "Hair check?"**_

_**Quinn snorted. "There's not much you can do with your hair, D," she remarked. "It's practically a buzz cut."**_

_**Declan grinned. "I call it the Justin Timberlake." At Quinn's predictable eye-roll, he chuckled, subtly hitching a thumb over his shoulder. "Just so you know, black-haired babe at your two seriously giving you the eyes."**_

_** Quinn's brow furrowed at the information as Declan loped away. Quinn stretched, casually glancing over in the direction Declan mentioned. Sure enough there were three women occupying one of the tables against the wall: a blonde, a light brunette, and a gorgeous woman with midnight black hair. As the other two chatted, the dark-haired woman had been sneaking glances over in Quinn's direction. **_

_** The dark-haired woman rose from her seat, talking to her friends. Quinn covertly watched her approach. She cursed, glancing down at her less than impressive wardrobe. The woman looked so professional in her pants suit and leather briefcase…and there she was in her favorite ratty red plaid button-down and a once-black t-shirt boasting "Property of Starfleet Academy" that was so old and threadbare that the rip in the collar was from wear rather than a deliberate fashion statement.**_

_** Quinn had seen the raven-haired woman before; she was a graduate student with the sociology department working on her both her Master's degree as well as her PhD in the program, and she TA'ed Quinn's Juvenile Justice and Public Policy class she took to satisfy her Law and Society minor area of study but they had never interacted.**_

_** "I'm sorry, I'm sure you get this, but you look familiar."**_

_** Quinn scratched her head, gazing up at the other woman. "I guess if you've seen **_**10-4**_**, that police procedural TV show? I've been on it a couple of times."**_

_** Full lips quirked upward in amusement. "I **_**have**_** seen that show, and I did see you on it a couple of times." She winked. "No offense, but you would make a terrible lawyer in real life."**_

_**Quinn cocked her head. "Should I be offended?"**_

_**The woman shook her head with a coy smile. "Not really. I meant it to be a compliment. The jury would be too distracted by your looks they wouldn't pay attention to what you're saying. You'd probably be great, but that wasn't what I was talking about." Her gray eyes swept up and down, taking in Quinn's form. "You're a student at SC, right?"**_

_** Quinn nodded. "Yeah. Third year." **_

_** "Lauren Reid," she introduced herself, sticking out a hand. "I think I TA'ed one of your classes."**_

_** Quinn shook the outstretched hand. "Quinn. Yeah, it was Juvenile Justice and Public Policy."**_

_** Lauren nodded. "You sat about halfway up, right by the aisle. My stare space tended to go right to you. I remember reading your term paper. Quite introspective and very thoughtful."**_

_** Quinn shrugged. "A bit of my philosophy courses seeping in, I'm afraid."**_

_** "It was impressive."**_

_** Quinn inclined her head in acknowledgement. It wasn't often people chose her intellect to compliment her on. Lauren gestured down to the seat across from Quinn.**_

_** "Do you have company?"**_

_** Quinn craned her head, spotting Declan reclining back in his chair, his ankle propped on his knee as he talked with Rosalie. He was grinning that boyish grin of his, showing the deep dimples in his cheeks. It was a pose she knew was one of his many tells that he was currently working his game, and from the looks of it, Rosalie Cardone was pretty interested. She turned back to Lauren, shaking her head with a small smile.**_

_** "Nope." She gestured to Declan's abandoned seat. "You're welcome to join me if you wish."**_

_** Time seemed to become irrelevant as she talked with Lauren, and Quinn was frankly quite surprised. It had been the first time she really interacted with a woman showing obvious interest in a social setting that didn't involve alcohol, and she was shockingly pleased. Lauren was intelligent, well-read, opinionated, and very charming. Plus being completely gorgeous certainly wasn't a strike against the student, either. The conversation flowed easy between the two women, topics ranging from classical literature, to favorite science fiction series, to Quinn's budding career as an actress, to the summer internship Lauren recently completed with the FBI. Quinn had never experienced this type of courtship, this "getting-to-know-you" stage. Her previous relationships consisted of an announcement of interest and a declaration of status following shortly after.**_

_** Lauren was very much an open book, but for her part, Quinn played it coy. She had never really liked to lay it all out when it came to relationships, preferring to personify a bit of an enigma. It gave her a sense of control. She could reveal exactly as much as she chose to and keep certain things close to the chest. It made her feel as though the relationship could move at a pace she was comfortable with; she was in the driver's seat. Still, as immersed as she was in the conversation and even with Declan tossing her a wave as he left for his afternoon block of classes, she was surprised when Lauren glanced at her watch and frowned. Quinn mirrored the gesture, looking at her phone and quirking an eyebrow as she noticed the time.**_

_** "Crap. I have to go." Lauren stood, grabbing her satchel by her feet. "I have a class in twenty. Maybe we can do this again?"**_

_** "Sure." Quinn stood, slinging her bag across her shoulders. "I'll walk you out. I've got a meeting anyway."**_

_** Lauren smirked, her gray eyes sparkling. "Furthering that guest spot career into something more substantial?"**_

_** "Yeah, actually," Quinn admitted with a blush. "Pilot season is coming up, and I have to take some headshots for my portfolio and resume." She ran a hand through her short hair. "Damn, that sounded really pretentious."**_

_** Lauren grinned, snatching the opened lapels of Quinn's button-down in her grasp and pushing. Quinn's breath surged out of her lungs as she felt her back impact against the door of her car. Lauren wasn't much taller than her, maybe an inch or so, but in that moment, she seemed to loom over the blonde. **_

_** "Well, maybe when you're done being a big-time TV star, we can get together for drinks?" **_

_** "S-sure," Quinn stuttered out. Their proximity was stifling. She could feel Lauren's gray eyes raking over her in a sweet caress. The delicious press of womanly curves against her body short-circuited her brain, cutting off most rational thought.**_

_** "Great." Lauren searched in her leather satchel, pulling out a card that she slipped into the back pocket of Quinn's jeans following the curve of her hip to the front.**_

_** "Call me when you're done."**_

_** Quinn nodded dumbly as Lauren leaned in, pressing a lingering, intimate kiss on her cheek. The touch, as innocent as it was, sent ripples of electricity cascading down Quinn's body to settle headily in her core. As Lauren sauntered away, Quinn could only squeak, slumping against the door to her car.**_

_** That marked the start of Quinn's first official relationship, minted on Facebook and everything. The thought came randomly as she and Lauren were having dinner at the latter's apartment. They had been meeting up at least three times a week, sharing meals, and hanging out; out of all the people currently in her life, Lauren was becoming the person with whom she was spending the most time. As Lauren grinned at her, batting her eyelashes coyly, sending strong signals fluttering her way, the stark realization hit. She had a…girlfriend…**_

_** "Well, duh," Declan had deadpanned when she had shared her revelation with him. "What did you think it was?"**_

_** "I don't know," Quinn had answered honestly. "This is definitely new territory for me."**_

_** It was true. This relationship was vastly different than her previous ones. She caught a tantalizing thrill when she looked down to find Lauren's hand casually entwined with hers. When they were waiting in line for a movie or a concert or a show, she found it natural to brush a wayward strand of hair from Lauren's forehead or randomly skate her fingertips down the curve of Lauren's cheekbone. Quinn had never been one for PDAs, but for some reason, she couldn't keep the amorous side at bay. She relished in the idea that she could simply reach out, grab Lauren and kiss her. Quinn had never had that sudden urge before, yet it arose constantly in Lauren's presence. **_

_**It was the first time Quinn had ever been consumed by her significant other, had ever felt that all-encompassing pull that occupied every waking and unconscious thought. Sometimes, she would find herself staring at Lauren with a stupid little grin on her face. Lauren would look at her like she was insane, and Quinn would pull out a charming line that would make the raven-haired beauty blush and look down. Quinn would puff up with pride because **_**she**_** elicited that reaction. **_

_**It had seemed her previous romantic entanglements had been almost protocol to the greater scheme of things, just something else she was expected to do. She always had control in her relationships, always knew just how to manipulate her boyfriends so that they thought they had some semblance of power, but in reality, she was the puppeteer who pulled the strings. But with this relationship, she had never felt more out of control in her life.**_

_** She may have been a master of manipulation, but Lauren had a way of completely blindsiding her into acquiescence. It was all in hindsight, but she noticed that it didn't take much. A coy bite of the lower lip, a look of those gray eyes through hooded eyelids, or sometimes just a touch of the hand was all it took. One of those, and Quinn was gone, accompanying Lauren and her posh, intellectual friends to some highbrow gallery opening or some luncheon with someone's rich uncle who was on the board of some big time graduate program. It was the same feminine wiles that had Quinn swapping her alcohol of choice from beer to wine, that dragged her from her weekly BSG marathon where she and Declan camped out in front of the television and exchanged heated debates over who was hotter: Starbuck or Number Six (Quinn had quite the weakness for the Cyclon), that slowly saw her impressive logo t-shirt and jeans collection moved to the back of her closet for more sweaters and pants too pretentious (and expensive) to be aptly named anything other than trousers.**_

_** But of course, with the dubious came the amazingly awesome, and through her relationship with Lauren, Quinn finally realized what the big deal about sex was. Sex had never been a factor in her previous relationships; she had never felt that…spark, that inferno often used to explain the desire and arousal tantamount to sex. Finally, she understood. With every teasing kiss, every brush of nomadic fingers, every sly thigh pressing so deliciously into her center, Quinn was further ensconced in the whirlwind that melded these feelings of lust, affection, and carnal want together. She could see herself falling deeper, allowing these feelings to devour her...until Lauren dropped the bomb on her: she had been accepted into the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia, and was moving at the end of the semester.**_

_** The end of their relationship was a complete surprise, that quick deathblow that no one saw coming. Like When-Wash-was-tragically-gashed-by-a-well-aimed-Reaper-harpoon-in-**_**Serenity **_**sudden (dude, she cried like a little bitch when that happened. No judging…), and Quinn found herself floundering in a way that she had never experienced before. To her immense shame, she spent a good portion of the aftermath holed up in her apartment, cuddling a bottle of vodka and blubbering whenever a song came on her iPod that reminded her of Lauren. It wasn't until a week later when she returned to the land of the sober and sane and looked in the mirror to observe the repercussions of her post-breakup bender and likened her appearance to the classic-era Star Wars Emperor Palpatine that Quinn realized she didn't function too well when she wasn't in control. **_

It really was no secret that Quinn Lucas liked to be in control. Her image was meticulously crafted, none of her representation did or said anything on her behalf without first having her acquiescence. She made meticulous choices that revealed just as much of herself as she wanted, no more, no less. It was something that began as she began her acting career, but it really took hold during college and started with Lauren.

That first relationship with Lauren was an eye-opener, a trial by fire to what she figured was the most dangerous aspect of relationships: when you put yourself out there, you essentially hand your significant other your heart, and it was theirs to do what they wish. They could choose to cradle it and cherish it or they could choose to crush it and return it to you mangled and broken.

Perhaps the most important lesson that she learned was that she had to be careful. She had forgot herself in that relationship. She had been too emotional and, just as she learned at a young age, feelings made you weak and vulnerable. People could exploit those feelings, and in a way, Quinn felt Lauren did. She didn't like that notion. She didn't like feeling like she was floundering in an ocean without a life preserver, and she certainly didn't like the feeling of the world falling around you. She didn't like that feeling she experienced when Lauren broke up with her. And so, Quinn promised to herself that she would never lose control again.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Miles Berry could readily admit he wasn't a thinker. Not to say he wasn't smart – he was; he had made the Dean's List four of his ten semesters at Villanova – he just wasn't the analytical type like Isaac or Rachel. His husband and daughter were very much cerebral people, preferring their lists and plans to everything else. The only thing Miles knew Rachel was impulsive about was her love life. He and Isaac had been subject to Rachel's often-fickle search for her perfect leading man in high school that sometimes led her to change her prospective interest throughout the years. First it was Finn, then it was Noah, she even entertained the fleeting thought of going after a gay man in Blaine Anderson. Luckily, a more lucid mind after the fact prevented that disaster.

No, Miles was a "gut" sort of guy. He felt more than analyzed; he leaped rather than looked. Perhaps it wasn't the most prudent manner of thinking considering his line of work, but Miles knew the dangers of his job. He knew the risks he took going out on the streets. He had been in his fair share of scuffles, his fair share of gunfights. In his eyes, regardless of whether he was careful, he would still find himself in those sorts of situations at any given time.

He remembered the first time he was faced with a dangerous situation. He was a rookie then, barely out of the academy and still in the probationary period before he was a full-fledged member of the Philadelphia PD; this was even before Rachel. He and Isaac had barely been together for a year, but he would never forget that first time. The experience was nothing like he had ever experienced before. It was like time would slow to a crawl. Adrenaline would course through his heart and head, the roaring white noise pounding in his ears. He wasn't a stranger to the potential to injury, he just never really thought it had that much of an impact on his daughter.

If it did, Rachel had never showed it. She would look over his injuries, offer him some comfort, and continue on with her day. If anything, she didn't express anything other than mild annoyance at being pulled out of whatever after-school activity she was doing. When she was younger, it was dance or voice lessons; in high school, it was the back end of a Cheerios practices. Miles just figured that she just rolled with the punches, much like she did with everything else. It wasn't to say that he wasn't concerned – he was – but whenever he tried to talk to her about it, Rachel clammed up and avoided the question. So to see his Shining Star stare him down, unleashing a tirade of over two decades' worth of anger, hurt, and concern was quite the gut check.

A knock sounded at his door, and he looked up to see his Shining Star. Miles was never more aware of the passage of time as he was in that moment. He remembered when she was a little girl and Dwight had called Isaac down for whatever injury he had sustained at the time. He remembered when she would come in perched on Isaac's hip in her leotard and tutu from her dance classes. Now, standing in his doorway in the wardrobe he knew came from the exclusive boutiques of the Big Apple, she looked like the Broadway and Hollywood star he never had any doubt she would become…although, now that he thought about it, he still owed Shelby money for their Tony bet. Miles smiled gently, stubbornly refusing to succumb to his feelings of nostalgia.

"Hey, Star."

"Hi, Daddy." Rachel fiddled with the locket around her neck. "How are you feeling?"

Miles shot out a grin. "Better. As good as I can be in my present condition, I guess."

Rachel approached her father's bedside. Her eyes were wide as they raked over her father. He looked a lot better, and Rachel could see that he was breathing easier. "I'm not sorry I said what I said, but I am sorry about the way I went about it."

"No, Rachel, you were right." Miles ran a hand over his head. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. _I'm_ sorry, Star."

Rachel nodded but didn't say anything. She merely observed him with those penetrating eyes of hers. It hadn't been any different than when she was a child, working out

Miles sighed. "I guess I just never knew how much this hurt your and your Poppa."

"I've seen you shot, stabbed, strangled. Don't you think that it hurt me? I know that this world can be a horrible place, Daddy. I know that our family already gives us a disadvantage to that notion, but do you really need to solidify it?" Rachel could feel herself tearing up again. "It _hurts_ me every time I see you lying there. It hurts me to know that you put yourself in these positions. I'm tired of hurting. Aren't you tired of being hurt?"

"Your Uncle Bob stopped by just before you did," he commented. It seemed to be a _non sequitur_, but Rachel didn't comment and just let him continue. "He said that I aced my sergeant's exam and the position's there if I wanted it."

Rachel nodded. "He mentioned that before when you were first brought in. What does that mean?"

"It means I'll be in a more administrative position," Miles answered. "I'll be out there, but not as much as I would as right now. I'll be in a supervisory position."

"It's a desk job," Rachel deduced.

"Partially," Miles answered. He looked to his daughter, grasping her hand. "I've decided to take it."

Rachel didn't answer for a long moment. She looked into his eyes, betraying nothing. There were times Miles cursed his daughter's acting abilities; this was definitely one of those times. She searched his expression, laying him out for her to scrutinize. "Are you okay with that, Daddy? Are you really happy with that decision?"

Miles sighed, lifting their joined hands and brushing a kiss over Rachel's knuckles. "Baby girl, you are the strongest person I know." His honey brown eyes softened as he took in the woman his daughter had become. "But I should have known that even you have your limits. It shouldn't have taken me pushing you to that limit to see how much this has been affecting you and your Poppa." He slid his hand up to cup his daughter's face. "You and your Poppa are the most important things in the world to me. I'm sorry I lost sight of that."

Rachel smiled, leaning in to burrow in her favorite spot on the curve of his neck against his uninjured side. "Daddy, I love that you're passionate about your job. I just don't love how you constantly have to play the hero. But I know that's how you are. Are you sure you're okay with the idea of being on the sidelines?"

Miles pressed a kiss to his daughter's hair. He realized that when she mentioned her dreams – walking her down the aisle, spoiling her children – he wanted to witness all of that as well. He smiled. "Yeah, baby girl, I'm happy with that."

Quinn glanced up as Rachel exited her father's room, a smile adorning the diva's face. "Everything okay?"

Rachel smiled, looping an arm through the blonde's. "It will be."

xxx-xxx-xxx

The two pair headed out to a diner for breakfast, ready to meet Santana and Brittany at a popular local haunt that thankfully served a few vegan-friendly options for Rachel. Mercifully managing to avoid the paparazzi, they spotted Brittany in the corner, working steadily at a humongous stack of pancakes. Her phone was in her other hand, checking her email for anything that could be important.

"Rach, you've got a call-in interview with a radio station back in Hollywood," she noted as Rachel slid in beside Quinn opposite Brittany. "We can take care of that before we leave for the airport. They sent a bunch of possible questions, and I've forwarded them to you so you can look them over…I think." She shrugged dismissively. "I guess we'll know for sure if when you get them or not."

Rachel nodded, taking in that piece of information. She looked to Quinn as the blonde finished her order. "What are you gonna do until we leave?"

Quinn shrugged. "I'm gonna head down to Akron for a bit."

Rachel quirked an eyebrow, handing back the menus as she finished her own order. "That's nearly two hours away."

Quinn nodded, slightly evasive about the comment. "I just really need to go." She scratched the back of her head. "It's kind of personal."

"I read you lived there for a bit," Brittany commented. "Do you have family or something?"

Quinn nodded. "Something like that, yeah."

Rachel returned the nod, knowing when to drop the issue. She started as a thought just hit her, and she craned her head to look for the final member of their party. "Where's Santana?"

"Dunno," Brittany answered. "She saw the morning paper and bolted." The blonde cocked her head. "She texted me a minute later and said she had to take care of some damage control."

Rachel frowned, looking down at the paper Brittany slid in front of her. Her breath caught as she caught a glimpse of her face…or what she could see of her face that wasn't smothered by Finn's. "Oh."

Quinn cocked an eyebrow, leaning over to see the headline splashed across the top. "That's not good."

Rachel sighed, shoving the paper away. "Guess we know where Santana is…"

Quinn bit her bottom lip. "Should we be scared?"

Rachel shook her head. "No. Santana's savvy. She'll get her point across without making this worse. She'll probably meet us back at the house."

Brittany nodded. "Good thing you came, Ray. I don't know what I would have done if the check came in. I'm not very good with the numbers."

Rachel grinned, reaching over to pat Brittany's hand. "Don't worry, Ducky. You know I've got you when San can't."

Brittany smiled brightly. "Oh, totally," she agreed. "The machine only works with the right parts."

Rachel couldn't help herself and slid over to Brittany's side of the booth, throwing her arms around the tall blonde. The world might not fully understand the brilliance of one Brittany S. Pierce, but then again, people thought Galileo was crazy too when he said Earth revolved around the sun…

xxx-xxx-xxx

There really was nothing that could stop Santana Lopez when she was on a mission, but what really was remarkable was how covert she could be if she wanted to. Santana took great pride in her own skills of flying under the radar when need be. It had served them well with the more…clandestine aspects of managing Rachel's career.

Santana sighed as her old high school coupe weaving through the Lima roads; she knew the way well. She had always seen this particular apartment complex on her way to Brittany's house. It was in that middle ground between the middle-class of Lima and Lima Heights Adjacent. Parking on the side street, Santana ascended entered the courtyard of the apartment complex, moving to the correct door. She raised her fist, knocking sharply on the door. It took a bit, but eventually, the occupant answered.

Santana wrinkled her nose, taking in the shirtless figure of her former classmate.

"Finnocence, no one wants to see your puffy pastry nipples this early in the morning. Do the world a favor and put a shirt on."

"Santana," Finn drawled, retreating inside, allowing her entrance. "I see nothing has changed."

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "And I see time hasn't honed your sense of…well, sense."

Finn reappeared from his bedroom, thankfully clothed. "What are you talking about?"

"Yesterday, you took Rachel out on a date and kissed her."

Finn looked shockingly nonplussed. "So? What's that got to do with anything?"

Santana didn't answer, merely glared. She unfolded the bundle under her arm and slapped three separate publications on his coffee table, two were national newspapers, and the third was the local periodical. All three featured the very clear and very obvious Finn bending back Rachel in a kiss with rather glaring headlines.

**LIMA LOVE AFFAIR?**

**BERRY, BERRY, SCANDALOUS!**

**HOMETOWN HAPPINESS REKINDLED?**

Santana cocked an eyebrow. "You tell me."

Finn's eyes grew wide as he looked from each picture splashed across the page. He sank down onto the couch, staring blearily up at Santana. "Wh-what…? H-how…?"

"It's this nifty little gadget called a camera," Santana commented wryly. "It does this cool thing that allows moments to be captured. Like, you know, a Jolly Green Giant planting an unwanted smoocheroo on a pint-sized Diva."

"I know what a camera does," Finn spat back.

"Apparently those little nuggets of information slipped your mind when you decided kissing Tiny was the greatest idea in the universe," Santana remarked, nodding toward the papers.

He threw up his hands. "How was I supposed to know someone would take a picture?"

Santana shrugged sardonically. "I don't know, maybe the dozens of paparazzi that greeted you outside of Breadstix were a clue?"

Finn's mouth flapped open and shut dumbly as he considered that point that had obviously not crossed his mind at the time.

"All right, Finnept, let me lay it down for you." Santana eased down into an armchair, crossing her legs. Finn fidgeted on the couch. All these years hadn't lessened that intimidating aura she wielded so effortlessly and unapologetically.

"Rachel is a celebrity. A _celebrity_," Santana enunciated the word. "That means that people are interested in what she does. And when she comes back to her hometown after being away for almost a decade that means that people want to know about it. And when she goes out with an ex-boyfriend, even more people want to the story behind it. And when people want to know why, paparazzi make it their mission to find out exactly that. This," Santana thrust a finger to the pictures, "is not something we want to have to deal with."

"Someone like me?" Finn mumbled deprecatingly.

"Come off it, Finnocence," Santana snapped back. "Nothing about this is about _you_. I meant a _situation_ like this. She just broke off a long-term relationship with someone who cheated on her, she's here to visit her wounded father in the hospital, she accepts a dinner date from you to humor you, and you decide it would be an excellent idea to plant one on her because your astonishingly acute mind thinks she'll swoon and fall for you like she did in high school." Santana crossed her arms. "Put all of that together, it doesn't look good. This is not something we want to have to explain."

Finn sighed, running his hands over his tousled hair. "Look, I didn't think, alright. I just…I miss her, okay? I miss the way she made me feel and the way she made me want to be…I don't know? Better, I guess."

"And you thought kissing her would have made it all come back in a rush of feelings?"

Finn bolted up from his seat, glaring down at her. "I don't know, alright?"

Santana looked unimpressed with his bluster and rage. She merely stared him down until he wilted, sagging back onto the couch. "Again, Finn, let me break it down for you because I know that pea brain isn't catching up to what I'm running with."

"Rachel was two months away from graduating when she found out they cast her in her Broadway debut. She won a Tony. Since then, she hasn't had to look for a job. Chris Keller approached her for this movie role, and he's paying a hell of a lot of money for her to be one half of what I guarantee is going to be one of those epic movie couples people are gonna be talking about for decades after this movie is considered to be a classic. I'm not gonna tell you how much, but it's well into seven figures."

"Why are you telling me this, Santana?" Finn asked.

"People are already starting to talk about her," Santana explained. "With all the promotion that's being put into this movie, it means that her face is now constantly on the entertainment channels, about to appear on talk shows, and will definitely be in the movie trailers for every big blockbuster from now until the premiere. Rachel now has an image she has to maintain, an image that she has worked very hard to cultivate and present to the public."

Finn crossed his arms, practically pouting as he glared at the bane of his high school existence. "So, what, I'm not good enough for that? I can't be a part of that?"

"In a word? Yes." Santana rolled her eyes. "If she had to date someone from her past, I would have picked Puck. He's handsome, successful, _not_ stuck in Lima…" Finn's eyes had narrowed, and Santana sighed.

"Fine, let me put it this way, Finn." Santana tilted her head, appraising the tall man that had caused Rachel so much grief. "What do you want to do with your life? Do you really want to be a high school football coach? What do you want to do?"

Finn shrugged. "I don't know. Something more than this, I guess."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Santana prodded.

Finn grew frustrated at the constant questions. "I don't know!"

"That's always been the difference between you and Rachel," Santana remarked. "Rachel knows what she wants to do, and she's taking the steps to do it. She has a plan, and she is not going to deviate from that plan. She is not going to have someone on her arm that does not fit into that world. She needs someone who is just as successful as she is, not someone she has to lug around and support while he figures himself out."

"You think that getting Rachel back will reclaim some of that high school magic," Santana deduced. "You think having her around will magically bring about opportunity. It doesn't work that way, Finn. Rachel has worked hard to bring herself to where she is. She saw what she wanted and she went after it. I am not going to let you ruin that for her because of some selfish desire to revert back to your presumed high school glory."

"Why did you come here, Santana?" Finn mumbled tiredly, scrubbing a large paw over his face. "To rub it in that Rachel doesn't want me?"

"I came here because you have never had to face up to your actions. You have never thought about consequences. Not when you lost us Nationals, not when you cheated on Rachel, not when you outed me in high school. All those times, you've had someone making excuses for you. Somehow, every time, you came out smelling like a rose. You never think about anything but what Finn Hudson wants." Santana straightened and crossed her arms. "You were lucky then, Finn. We got over those things. We could reach Nationals again, Rachel moved on, and me…" Santana shrugged. "Well, let's just say everything worked out in the end."

Santana rose from her seat, a menacing glare on her pretty features. "Now, this is something a bit bigger. Rachel's livelihood, her career, and her dreams are at stake. You may think I'm kidding, but I'm not. This is a very precarious business, Finn, and sometimes missteps can mean everything falls around your ears faster than you can look around and ask what just happened." Santana paced in front of her audience, like a panther on the prowl.

"It's only out of professional courtesy that I'm here," she drawled. "If it were up to me, you'd find out the hard way what comes next, but Rachel's much more forgiving than I am." Still, Santana's intense glare didn't waver. "We are going to release a statement, Finnocence, and it's not going to put you in a very good light. Because, honestly? You don't deserve it."

"You can't do that!" Finn raged. "What are people going to think about me?"

"Oh, we sure can," Santana drawled. "Happens all the time, really. Kinda sucks, doesn't it? Maybe you should have thought of that _before_ you tried to force a kiss on Rachel." She casually popped out a hip, flicking her hair over a shoulder. "You see where I'm going for this? You _put_ yourself in this position, Finn."

"This isn't fair, Santana," Finn insisted.

"What _wasn't fair_, Finn," Santana mocked, "was being outed in the middle of a crowded hallway because someone got a little butt-hurt." Santana's eyes blazed ebony fire. "_That's_ not fair."

"So this is about you getting back at me?"

"No, Finn, this is about you finally nutting up and staring your actions right in the face. You get to see what it's like when grownups mess up. You don't get to hide behind your mom or Mr. Schue anymore. You get to be a man." Santana sneered. "Congrats. Looks like you're finally catching up to the balls that dropped way too early."

Finn ran his hands tiredly through his hair, knowing when he was defeated. "Is that it, Santana?"

Santana paused before letting herself out. "One more thing, Finnept. Don't even think about talking to the reporters. If you even whisper a harsh syllable against Rachel, I will not hesitate to rip your character down so far a serial killer on death row would seem like Mother Theresa, and you know I've got the ammo for it."

Finn scoffed bitterly. "Yeah, Santana, I got you."

Santana shot him a smile and a wave. "Have a nice day, Finn."

As Santana sat in her car, she dropped her head onto the steering wheel. A shaky exhale followed a deep inhale. Swallowing hard, she started her car and pulled away from the curb, steering the car down the street.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Around the same time, a large, black SUV coasted down the road towards Akron as Santana pulled away. A two-hour drive later, Quinn exited out of the SUV, taking a deep breath as she surveyed her surroundings. She hadn't been back to this place in over ten years. Never would she have thought a single year, merely a blip in the greater scheme of her life, would have so much impact on the person she had become. Ever since she had set foot in Lima, this little piece of her past niggled at the back of her mind, even though it was well out of the way. Finally, she had succumbed to the pull and borrowed their rental car to make the trek over to Akron where Carmel High School was located before they left that evening for Los Angeles.

As she strolled through the doors, the halls of Carmel didn't look much different than they had when she was fourteen. The halls were still bedecked in the school colors of navy blue, gray, and white, firmly supporting the school mascot of the Spartans. Trophy cases lined a few of the hallways near their respective headquarters. The football team had a few smaller trophies in their case by the athletics offices, mostly divisional awards, but nothing past the school's primary conference. Vocal Adrenaline's case was by the large auditorium and was overflowing with the accolades both individual and team-oriented from their numerous wins. The large glass case housed the rather overwhelming Nationals trophies, chronologically arranged with a curious gap between 2011 and 2013, the only known defeat since Shelby Corcoran had become director.

She stopped in front of the locker numbered 243, the memories flooding back, memories of inadequacy, memories of an almost delirious desire to be invisible, and the single shining memory of a savior who had become everything.

_**"Hiya, Lucy Caboosey!"**_

Denny Campbell was pretty much what everyone would expect from the star quarterback of Carmel High School's Spartan football team. He was tall and good-looking, a guy to whom puberty had been extremely kind. He looked like a young Paul Walker with his wheat-blonde hair and light blue eyes; he worked at Abercrombie & Fitch part-time and on the weekends. He earned his popularity by leading Carmel's football team to a few conference championship games, but not much beyond that. Still, to a fairly mediocre team, that was something to be praised for.

_**"You know, Lucy Caboosey, I've been thinking. I've stuffed you into a garbage can, I've stuffed you into the laundry cart, and I've hung you from the coat rack of the chemistry lab, but what I haven't done in awhile is stuff you into a locker." **_

It wasn't as though Denny was a bad guy. At the time, Quinn thought he was the worst thing ever to live, but now, in retrospect, she could understand the idea that he was just a jerk, an immature boy who needed to grow up.

_**"It's rather rude of me, don't you think?"**_

To be honest, Quinn always thought that Denny's left tackle, Tino Moretti, was the prime instigator of whatever mischief the two got into, with Denny's insipid girlfriend, Sadie Mitchell often egging the two blockheads on.

She could remember that stupid, high-pitched giggle that never failed to grate on her nerves whenever Denny and Tino would corral her for whatever they were going to do. Sadie was a very attractive girl, in that fake, superficial way guys often fell prey to in high school, but she was a true mean girl in a way Quinn never understood. She wasn't quite sure what Sadie had against her, but Quinn did know she was always on the cheerleader's radar.

_**"Whoop, watch your head, Lucy Caboosey! We hope your stay at the Locker Hotel, Suite 243 is pleasant."**_

Quinn didn't know why but for some reason, locker 243 was Denny's favorite "hotel suite." She supposed it wasn't the worst place. The locker was situated in the main hallway where many people passed, and often, she found that someone was usually willing to release her.

_**"One day the kids in this town will be stuck here, trying to relive their high school years because those years were the best of their lives, and you'll be somewhere bigger and better, shining brighter than they ever will."**_

Rachel's words were the unwitting catalyst to the change from Lucy Fabray to Quinn Lucas. If she was going to live up to that notion of shining bigger and brighter than anyone who came out of Carmel, she had to look the part, and she was determined to do just that.

Quinn cocked her head as she heard a rhythmic tapping on the metal of the door. It was vaguely familiar; although, at first, she thought she was hearing things. Curiously, she frowned and reached out, easing open the locker. To her surprise, a young boy stumbled out, falling to his knees. Quinn helped him up, easily setting him on his feet.

"You okay?"

The small, mousy boy nodded, nudging his thick frames up his nose. "Thanks."

"No worries." Quinn cast a wry glance back to the locker. "You'd think by now they'd have a way for someone to get out from the inside."

He scratched his head, straightening his plaid button-down shirt and slapping dust from his jeans. "People who make the lockers are probably the people who did the stuffing when they were in school." He glanced up at his savior. His jaw went slack as he looked into the face that graced a magazine he had hidden under his bed. If anyone knew he bought the thing – it was one of those typical women's health sort of magazines – what little cred he had in the halls of Carmel would be conveniently chucked into the dumpster…and he would follow shortly.

"You…you're Quinn Lucas."

Quinn smiled. "Yup. What's your name?"

"Alden. Alden Andrews," he responded reflexively. Alden's eyes widened even further as he took in the rather stunning woman standing before him with a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Quinn noticed that his eyes were actually a pretty shade of blue behind the lenses, a curious combination of pale gray and navy blue with a halo of yellow around the pupil.

"Look, not to be rude or anything, but what the hell are you doing here?"

Quinn smirked, casting a wry glance at her surroundings. "I used to go here."

"Get out!"

Quinn chuckled. "Yeah. I went here for a year before my dad moved the family to San Diego."

Alden didn't look convinced. "I'm sure this school would have known if _Quinn Lucas _went here."

"Look in _The Spartan_," Quinn answered, naming the annual yearbook. "Look for a girl named Lucy Fabray. That was me."

Alden rubbed the top of his head. "Really?"

"Yeah." Quinn smirked. "I should warn you, though. I didn't look like I do, now. I was a bit of an ugly duckling in high school."

"Well, you look great now," the young boy ventured shyly.

"Thanks." Quinn smiled, endeared at the compliment from the obviously sweet boy. She saw a lot of herself in Alden. "Don't worry, everyone goes through an awkward phase. You'll grow out of yours soon enough. Some people just need a little time."

He looked up at her hopefully. "You think?"

Quinn shrugged. "I did eventually."

"Cool." Alden squinted up at her. "Was it the same people for you?"

Quinn smirked, scratching the back of her neck. "That stuffed me in the lockers, hung me from the coat rack behind the door in the chemistry lab?"

"You too?" Alden nudged his glasses up his nose. "Man, I thought it was just me."

Quinn shook her head. "No way. I'd bet my car the football captains pass that spot down to each other before they graduate."

"It was the football captain for you too?"

Quinn nodded. "And his hulking lineman sidekick with his achingly blonde girlfriend."

"Wow." Alden wrinkled his nose. "Well, some things never change, I guess."

Quinn shrugged. "Yeah, but doesn't mean they have to stay the same."

"I guess." Alden blushed, looking up again at the famous television star. "Hey, uh, can I have your autograph and maybe a picture with you?"

Quinn grinned, nodding her head. "Sure."

She took the proffered paper and pen, scrawling a short message and her loopy signature.

_To Alden:_

_Remember, the ugly duckling became a beautiful swan eventually._

_Quinn Lucas_

Quinn put an arm around the boy, smiling up at the camera as he pressed his finger to trigger the camera. As he looked down at the finished product, an idea hit Quinn.

"One more?"

"Sure."

As Alden readied the camera again, Quinn leaned in, pressing a kiss to the boy's cheek as the flash went off. She looked at the picture with a grin.

"That should help you with a little cred, don't you think?"

His cheeks were bright red as he squeaked out a, "Thanks."

Quinn shrugged. "I was once a frequent guest to locker 243," she revealed. "I turned out alright."

"Yeah?"

"Someone helped me out of that locker once, and she gave me probably the best advice I ever got up to that point," Quinn affirmed. "I'm just paying it forward."

Alden cradled the binder holding his autograph to his chest as he called out to the departing television star. "What was the advice?"

"Basically…" Quinn thought a moment, paraphrasing Rachel's immortal words. "High school is only a small tidbit of your life; four years out of fifty-plus, maybe. Don't make them the best years. Make the rest of your life memorable."

A pensive look crossed the young face with still so much life left to experience and enjoy. Quinn smiled inwardly, figuring it was the best time for her to make her departure. She clapped a hand to Alden's back with a parting wink.

"Take care of yourself."

Alden only nodded, still absorbing Quinn's words. She chuckled, rotating and disappearing down the hall and around the corner, leaving him to stare after her.

xxx-xxx-xxx

To anyone unfamiliar with the structure, the Corcoran-St. James Theatre was quite the intimidating building, much like the woman and man after whom the theatre was named. Tucked into a corner of the Carmel campus, a set of steps descended down to the small theatre lobby currently entrenched in darkness. Against the wall in the glass case between the two entrances was a photograph timeline of the tech crews that assisted the arts program. Quinn leaned in, searching the photos until she found the year she was looking for. In the photograph labeled 2008, shuffled to the back, her frizzy hair and large spectacles just visible over the shoulder of the person in front of her, was Lucy Quinn Fabray. It was the singular piece of evidence of Lucy Fabray's existence in the entire school outside of the yearbook. No one really knew it, but she was part of the tech crew for the arts department, lighting mostly, and the tech crew often assisted Vocal Adrenaline's performance. In Lucy's mind, it was perfect. She was tucked away in either the rafters or the booth where no one could see her and she was able to view all of the performances for free.

"I thought you looked familiar."

Quinn jumped and whirled to find Rachel's mother behind her. "Ms. Corcoran, you scared me."

The calculating look she had seen the first time she had met Shelby was back on the elder brunette's face as shrewd brown eyes appraised her.

"Sorry." Shelby sidled up to her daughter's costar. "I knew you looked familiar the first time we met, but I didn't put the pieces back together then." Shelby looked toward the photo. "I had seen you around but I never knew your name."

Quinn smiled softly. "Well, you never had to talk to me when it came to lighting. Besides, Lucy Fabray took a lot of effort to stay invisible." She glanced hesitantly at Rachel's mother. "How'd you figure it out?"

Shelby shrugged. "I think it was the eyes." She eyed her daughter's costar. "So…Lucy Fabray, huh?" Shelby smirked. "I had to deal with your dad once. He's a jackass."

"I haven't been her for a long time," Quinn huffed ruefully. She looked at the picture where her past self hovered in the background. "Lucy represented a me that…wasn't happy, and Russell Fabray was at the core of that unhappiness."

"And what's Quinn Lucas in all of this?"  
>Quinn shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. "Quinn Lucas is everything Lucy Fabray ever wanted to be. Thin, pretty, popular…the problem with Quinn Lucas is that everyone sees the outside and that's good enough for them. No one tries to go deeper." She scoffed at herself, her eyes drifting down to the picture of Lucy. "I know, poor me. The rich, Hollywood star has so many problems…"<p>

"You're not just a Hollywood star," Shelby reminded the blonde. "You're still a person. That's not an extraneous request."

"Yeah…" Quinn sighed.

"I saw what you did for Alden Andrews," Shelby commented. "He's a sweet boy, kind of quiet, but a good kid. The meathead Neanderthals in this school love to pick on him though."

Quinn shot out a wry smile. "Yeah, been there."

"You know, you're placing a lot of trust in him not to spew this admittedly juicy story to the media."

Quinn laughed, seeing so much of Rachel in the innocuous statement she knew wasn't made maliciously. "I never hid my past," Quinn remarked. "It was always there if people were to dig, but no one bothered, no one made the connection." She shrugged. "Just goes to show you how invisible Lucy Fabray really was."

Shelby tilted her head, the dark eyes so reminiscent of Rachel's boring into Quinn's profile. "So why did you come back here knowing no one would recognize you and make the connection? You could be rubbing your success in people's faces."

Quinn smiled, looking at Lucy Fabray in all of her frizzy-haired, bespectacled glory. When her hazel eyes turned to Shelby, there was serenity to the green, gold, and amber spheres. It was something that had never been a descriptive word concerning Lucy Fabray. "_I_ know and I don't need the gratification. I did all of this for me, not for anyone else."

Shelby nodded once. There seemed to be a good helping of respect shielded behind the elder woman's penetrating stare.

"Thought you might want to know," Shelby drawled, "Denny Campbell's working at his father's sporting goods store. He's the offensive coordinator when he's not telling stories of his almost-win in the conference championship. Sadie married him after they graduated. She works at a fashion boutique downtown."

"Still stuck in high school," Quinn murmured.

"Still stuck in high school," Shelby affirmed.

Quinn absorbed that knowledge, shooting Shelby a grateful smile. "Thanks."

"I like you, Quinn," Shelby declared, looking at the younger woman. "Take care of my girl."

Quinn nodded. "I will."

She took a moment to take in the sight of the once-hated halls before turning and heading towards the front entrance. For the first time ever, Lucy Quinn Fabray walked out of Carmel High School with her head held high and a smile on her face.

xxx-xxx-xxx

A bit later as the group boarded the studio's jet on their way back to LA, Rachel's brows drew together as she noticed the rather smug, satisfied expression Santana was currently sporting. "I don't like that look on your face."

Quinn cocked an eyebrow, her eyes shifting from Rachel to Santana and back again. "What look?"

"That look." Rachel narrowed her eyes as Santana snuggled into the plush, comfortable seats. "That's the look she had when she and Noah put something into shampoo in the hockey team's locker room shampoo supply to stain their hair pink."

Santana smirked. "Just doing my job, Tiny…"

Rachel settled into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's what I'm afraid of."

xxx-xxx-xxx

The moment they returned to work, it was right back to the grind. Right off the bat, both woman were whisked away to film a variety of scenes, many of which were leading up to the few love scenes Chris had saved for last.

Quinn was certain something had changed. Rachel had gotten exceedingly more affectionate. It seemed as though she kept in constant contact with Quinn, a touch here, a graze of the fingers there, and it had become that Rachel would extend greetings and farewells with a lingering kiss. She wasn't exactly sure what had been the catalyst to this change, but it didn't really change the dynamic of their relationship, so she let it be. Little did she know, of course, but Rachel had made a decision. And when Rachel set her mind to something, there was little that could be done to dissuade the little diva.

She was playing with fire, Rachel decided. But, in her mind, this was necessary. The most significant thing she had taken from her visit back to Lima was that Quinn Lucas had the ability to become a serious romantic interest. The blonde understood her emotionally; that was the first indicator there was something special about her costar. It had been difficult to find someone who understood the intricacies of her admittedly high-maintenance personality. Rachl had to admit, that fact enticed her. The only thing that now came into question was if they were _physically_ compatible. Much to Rachel's anxiety, she was about to find out. The day had come to film perhaps the most important scenes of the movie. She would be spending multiple hours kissing, caressing, and otherwise engaging in similar intimate activities with a clothed and alternatively half-naked Quinn Lucas. The thought both thrilled and terrified her in the same breath.

Idling on set, Rachel wrung her hands as she attempted to calm herself. She was using every method she had ever been taught to steady the butterflies fluttering rampantly in the pit of her stomach. As she glanced up, she could see Quinn approaching her, and Rachel grinned in an effort to mask her anxiety as the blonde stopped right in front of her.

"You look like shit."

Quinn rolled her eyes, looking down at her costume. The shirt, jacket, and jeans currently covering her person were all stained with the fake blood that also dotted the masterful makeup job that marred her face. Not for the first time, Rachel mused how unfair it was the Quinn's almost unearthly beauty shone through so effortlessly. The fake cuts and injuries marking the normally flawless face didn't detract from that fact in the slightest, although it did showcase the clear talent of their makeup team.

Quinn bumped Rachel's shoulder with her own. "I think that's the point, genius."

The banter that was no doubt about to commence was interrupted by a deep voice. "You two ready?"

Chris, like always, looked like a college frat boy rather than an Academy Award-winning director in his worn corduroys and striped t-shirt, and he was shifting from side to side in anticipation for the scene. He tapped the toe to a well-loved suede, classic Puma against the ground as he nudged his black-framed glasses further up his nose.

Rachel let out a breath, nodding fervently. "As ready as I can be."

Quinn offered out a fist in solidarity. Rachel rolled her eyes before bumping it with her own.

"Let's do this, CK."

Chris grinned, clapping his hands together with an exuberant thumbs-up. "Alright, ladies. Let's make some magic."

* * *

><p><em>Mia sat in her living room, a medical journal opened across her lap. She flipped through the pages but didn't really absorb the words or knowledge presented before her. Behind her, the stereo blared with a mellow playlist from her iPod. It was a setting that should have been the ultimate calm atmosphere, but internally, Mia was attempting to reign in the tumultuous thoughts running through her mind. It had been almost two days since she and Sloane had kissed, and no one had heard neither hide nor hair of the already elusive Marine. She had popped in and out of various areas of Greensborough but nothing for long enough for anyone to engage her in any sort of conversation. Mia couldn't help but be worried; Sloane had rushed out so quickly and, if she was feeling anything like Mia was, was surely battling a whole lot of conflicting emotions. She couldn't imagine how those feelings could have been magnified in a person who had just come to terms with her sexuality and someone who hadn't allowed that knowledge to be made public on their own terms.<em>

_ Mia jumped as a pounding sounded on her door. She frowned as she peeked through the crack in the curtain and recognized the slightly tousled bob of blonde hair. She opened the door and gasped as she took in Sloane's face. The Marine was bleeding heavily from cuts over her eyebrow, lip, and cheek. She was cradling her side and wheezing heavily from exertion._

_ "Sloane!" She nearly buckled as Sloane fell into her, unable to keep her legs under her. She maneuvered them to the couch, easing Sloane down._

_ "What happened?"_

_ "Fight," Sloane grunted, leaning heavily against the back of the couch. Mia disappeared back into her room, coming out with a bag. She bustled around, flicking lights on before returning to the Marine's side. Practiced eyes skated over the blonde's features._

_ "We should take you to a hospital," Mia advised. "You might have some internal..."_

_ "No," Sloane groaned, allowing herself to be eased down onto the thankfully pliant cushions. "No hospital. Dr. Smith is a bigot. Always has been. With my luck, he'd stick me with something that'll cause my heart to explode."_

_ Mia bit her lip. Part of her wanted to defend Dr. Smith as a fellow medical professional; the more rational part knew that Sloane's words were entirely true. "Well, take me through it," she prompted. "I can assess as much as I can with what you're telling me."_

_ "I was at _Ace's_," Sloane started, naming the popular dive bar. Her breaths were starting to even out. "I was just having a beer, minding my own business. JJ walked in with Bug and the whole posse. He started talking, but I ignored him."_

_ "He didn't take too lightly to that," Mia deduced._

_ "No," Sloane concurred. "He didn't. He grabbed me and turned me around. He started saying stuff, nothing too surprising. Saying that if I would have just gone out with him in high school, he would have done me right, he would have fucked the gay right out of me."_

_ Mia nodded. She had heard the same thing before. It certainly wasn't new. Mia gazed into the deep hazel eyes shining with a mix of anger and sadness._

_ "I don't know what I was thinking," Sloane answered. "I just got so mad. It was like all the years of frustration and anger boiled over." She deflated. "I mouthed off pretty bad back to him, and he took a swing." Sloane tilted her head, showing the cut at the corner of her mouth. _

_ "First one got me here," she raised her shirt, showing her toned abdominal muscles, a fist-sized bruise marring the otherwise flawless complexion. "The next got me here." She winced as she lowered her arm. "He got me a few other times before I started swinging back."_

_ Mia nodded as Sloane pointed them out and recounted the exchange. She crouched by one just above Sloane's pelvis. It was mottled a bit harsher than the others and there was a clear indentation on the pale skin._

"_This one's bad." She lofted a curious gaze. "Was he wearing a ring?"_

_Sloane nodded as Mia grabbed a camera to note the damage, knowing it would definitely help if the Marine wanted to press charges for assault. Mia circled around Sloane, taking careful pictures._

"_He always wears his GHS class ring on his right hand." Sloane chuckled. "Thank goodness he's left-handed or this would have been a lot messier."_

_ "Where was Murray in all of this?" Mia asked about Sheriff Beau Murray, knowing he frequented the bar right after his shift was over. If the day ended in 'y', Murray was smack-dab in the middle of the counter, a Guinness stout in his mug and _Ace's_ famous jalapeño cheese nuggets at his elbow._

_ "Tripping up Bug as the bastard tried to sneak up behind me with an empty beer bottle," Sloane chuckled sardonically._

_ "I knew I always liked him," Mia murmured, shuddering to think what would have happened if JJ's head lackey would have succeeded. "Kind of stupid that JJ picked a fight with the sheriff right there, isn't it?"_

_ Sloane snorted. "When has JJ ever done something even remotely classified as smart?"_

"_True," Mia conceded. She straightened, gesturing to Sloane's torso. "It looks like most of your injuries are superficial. A few need stitches, but I can take care of that here. I don't think you'll need to go to the emergency room or anything."_

_ "Thanks," Sloane mumbled._

_ "No problem." Mia nodded to Sloane's torso. "Take off your shirt."_

_ Sloane obliged, revealing the abdominal muscles that Mia had envied more often than not. The former surgeon bit her lip as more of the expanse of pale skin seemed to be marred with bruises. Still, from what she heard, JJ had come off much worse in the exchange. She hated to see what he looked like._

_ She dragged a stool in from her kitchen, motioning Sloane to sit. She set to work cleaning and tending the various cuts adorning Sloane's body. For her part, the Marine stayed silent. It was obvious that she harbored a high pain tolerance, as the blonde didn't utter a single sound. _

_ Mia crouched down, inspecting a cut by Mia's hip. She mustered up the courage to speak, venturing tentatively, "Why did you run?"_

_ Sloane's gaze flit downward, meeting Mia's for only a fraction of a second. She knew to what the brunette was referring. Sloane didn't answer for a long moment, and Mia thought the Marine was choosing to ignore the question. She fought down her disappointment as she continued to care for the injury._

_ "You scare me."_

_ It was whispered so softly, Mia wasn't quite sure the blonde had spoken. When the words registered, she straightened, scrutinizing the blonde carefully. "Why?"_

_ Again, Sloane paused. She drew in a deep breath, her hands twisting around themselves in a clear show of anxiety. "I was okay with hiding. I thought no matter what, I could…fake straight, I guess." She turned, her sharp hazel eyes finally locking onto Mia. "But with you…I can see myself holding hands with you in public, kissing you on a busy street, introducing you to my parents as my girlfriend...That was scary." __Sloane took a moment to let it all sink in before asking a question of her own. "Why didn't you come after me?"_

_ "I'm scared too," Mia admitted after awhile. "I lost the most important person in my life because I was too blinded by my own ambitions. I can't hurt someone like I hurt her again."_

_ Sloane puffed up, staring strongly down at the former surgeon. "I can take care of myself."_

_ At Sloane's declaration of supreme bravado, Mia merely glared and poked the Marine in one of her more colorful bruises._

"_Ow! Alright," Sloane conceded in a petulant grumble, squirming away from the offending finger. "Point taken."_

_Mia smirked. "It's okay to have other people take care of you sometimes, Sloane."_

_Sloane's eyes flit shyly to Mia's, and the ensuing statement was hardly more than a whisper. "I'd be okay if you took care of me."_

_ Mia smiled softly and slowly approached the Marine, her eyes locked on the swirling hazel orbs. She reached down, grasping the hands that dangled loosely at Sloane's sides. Her thumbs ran gently over the knuckles that were cut, bruised, and probably still smarting from colliding with JJ's person multiple times. Mia looked into the hazel depths, mesmerized by the myriad of colors highlighted in the depths. She reached out, tenderly brushing the perpetually unruly strands of Sloane's hair from her forehead, and leaned in, brushing her lips against Sloane's._

_As the kiss deepened, their embrace tightened, melding from cradled hands, to cradled bodies, their lips moving slowly, sensually against each other. They broke apart to breathe, foreheads resting on one another, mouths brushing against any skin they could reach, radiating assurance and comfort. _

_Mia craned her head back, eyes searching as they locked onto Sloane's. The once-unreadable hazel spheres shone with affection and desire. They pulled her in, mesmerizing her. Mia closed her eyes as hands so gentle, yet so strong, cradled her face, tilting it up, and all she could feel was everything Sloane was giving._

_This kiss was different than their first attempt. It wasn't born of frustration, a rough interlude with seemingly no segue-way. It wasn't a battle for dominance, two stubborn forces unwilling to back down. Rather, this kiss was a kiss of completion, and for the two participants, the beginning of something else._

* * *

><p>As they set up for the penultimate scene, clearing out all unnecessary personnel until only the bare minimum number of crewmembers occupied the set, Quinn and Rachel disappeared to the wardrobe trailer to undress for the love scene. When they returned, the tension was palpable as Rachel paced the set. Quinn frowned and sidled up beside the little diva, slipping an arm around her shoulders.<p>

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah," Rachel breathed out. "Just psyching myself up, I guess."

Quinn rotated her around, ducking her head down to look her in the eye. "It's just us," she soothed. "Just you and me, Rach." She smiled softly. "You are going to be amazing and gorgeous and perfect. America is going to fall in love with you."

Rachel started to visibly relax, and Quinn smiled, seeing the light return to the dark eyes before her.

"Do you trust me?"

Rachel nodded with a wavering smile. "Of course."

"You and I are going to make this beautiful," Quinn asserted. She pressed a reassuring kiss to the top of Rachel's head. "You can do this." Quinn folded the smaller woman in a hug. "There's no one I'd rather do this scene with. Chris was right when he took a chance on you."

Rachel's voice was muffled from where she had buried her face in the comfort of Quinn's neck. "Thanks, Quinn."

Quinn suppressed a shiver as Rachel's soft lips moved against the skin of her neck. "You got it, Songbird."

Chris approached the pair, giving them time to settle. He smiled reassuringly. "Ready?"

Rachel's hand unconsciously found Quinn's. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She rolled her head first to one side, then the other. When she glanced up, all hesitation, all tentativeness had vanished from her person, from her posture to her expression.

Rachel nodded resolutely. "Ready."

* * *

><p><em>Sloane sat at the foot of the bed, unable to tear her eyes from the vision in front of her. Mia's unfathomably long legs extending out from the tiny sleep shorts, the lacy strap of her bra peeking out from the neckline of a loose, Henley shirt. She drew in a sharp breath as Mia swung a leg over her lap, straddling her thighs. Her eyes fluttered close, a quivering exhale escaping from her parted lips. Mia's soft, strong hands cradled her face, fingers gently tracing the contours. Sloane shuddered, the soft press of lips invading her senses. The taste of Mia intoxicated her more than the alcohol ever could.<em>

_ Sloane saw the fruits of her actions before she actually registered them, her hands sliding up Mia's slender torso and taking Mia's shirt with them. She resisted the urge to drop to her knees in benediction as she took in the small, pert breasts neatly encased in a lace and satin bra. Still, she couldn't help the whispered curse that fell from her lips._

_ "Fuck…"_

_ Mia whimpered as Sloane tipped forward, a reverent tongue tracing the dip in her cleavage. Nimble fingers skipped over the bumps in her spine on their way to the clasp of her bra. As the clasp released, the resulting exultant hiss sent a shiver through Mia, and she cradled Sloane's head as curious lips teased her nipple. Mia rolled her hips forward, the intent clear in stormy brown eyes. She returned the favor and palmed the breasts in front of her, one finger teasingly skating just beneath the cups, skimming just past the nipple._

_ Sloane grunted, thrusting her chest out reflexively. "Mia…please."_

_ A husky chuckle sounded, and Mia laid a gentle finger on Sloane's parted lips. "Easy, baby," she whispered. "Let me take care of you."_

_ All coherent thought left Sloane's comprehension as Mia skated down her body, her lips mapping an erratic path, stripping the Marine of the rest of her clothes. Whatever intelligent thought was left in her brain fizzled out to gray static as Mia's gloriously bare form crawled its way back up Sloane's body. She groaned as their naked flesh met for the first time, sending her spiraling away to unspeakable bliss. She gazed down at the hooded, dark eyes watching her carefully, glinting with a predatory sparkle. And as Mia's lips lowered onto hers, Sloane felt herself pulled away as though she was experiencing it all out-of-body with everything coming in a series of flashes:_

_ Skin on skin._

_ Wet heat._

_ Delicious friction._

_ Hands gripping._

_ Lips searching._

_ Hips rolling._

_ Teeth nipping._

_ Muscles moving._

_ White noise._

_ Sweet release._

_ As she came back to herself, she found Mia cradled in her arms, the steady rise and fall of her torso indicative of her deep slumber. Sloane reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair. She could describe their lovemaking as a series of oxymoron: roughly gentle, patiently desperate, carnally loving._

_ But in that moment, it was perfect. _

* * *

><p>"CUT!"<p>

"Excellent, ladies. We got it there." Chris watched the playback, nodding to himself, muttering to his assistant before he clapped his hands. "Alright, print that!" He looked to his two stars. "I'll text you with your call times."

Quinn nodded as she stood. She held out Rachel's robe, carefully wrapping the smaller woman in the comfortable depths before turning away, slipping her own cover on. Rotating back to her costar, Quinn pulled up short at the look in Rachel's dark gaze. It was something she had seen before but never in Rachel's eyes. It was pure lust. Pure want.

Without a word, Rachel reached out, grasping Quinn's hand and tugging her back in the direction of their trailers. As soon as they were in the safety of the nearest one – Rachel's – she turned back to her befuddled companion.

Quinn's brow furrowed in confusion. "Rachel, what are you…?"

Whatever she was about to say died on her lips as they were staved off from further verbalization by a rather insistent pair.

_ Dear sweet Lord in heaven…_

That was the last coherent thought in her mind before everything fizzled out like a television that had suddenly lost reception.

Rachel's lips were sweet, her kitten tongue tantalizing every inch it meandered across, flitting against the smooth expanse of Quinn's neck, trailing down to her collarbone. Quinn's fingers clenched around the soft fabric of Rachel's robe, a stark reminder that the garment was the only thing separating her from Rachel's naked skin.

Rachel stumbled back onto her couch, tugging Quinn down on top of her. Rachel's impossibly long, lean legs wound tight around her waist, Rachel's hands seeking purchase. One tangled itself in Quinn's hair; the other slipped beneath the hem of the robe to grip a handful of the delicious ass that had mocked her from their first meeting.

Quinn hissed out a groan, reflexively grinding forward, desperate for the friction that would sate the desire that had sparked the raging inferno now encompassing at her center. She had never reached arousal this quickly, but feeling Rachel's languid rolling against her stomach, she was certain it wouldn't be sated quick enough.

Rachel whimpered, feeling the muscle beneath her palm clench as Quinn's hips surged forward roughly. She could feel the toned muscles bulge and contract with Quinn's graceful movements. It was all so hot, so sexy. She knew Quinn would be as exquisite in bed as she was in everything she did. She never knew carnal passion could look so elegant, and she writhed in a desperate effort to feel it all.

Quinn grunted, everything melding together in a haze of ardor, lust, and desire. All she could was feel. Thoughts, rationale, coherency were irrelevant at this point. All of her senses were magnified to the point of hypersensitivity to everything Rachel was doing. Blunt nails raked down her back, the slight sting providing a tantalizing counterpoint to the pleasure radiating from the point of all sensation at her center. She could practically feel the insistent thrumming of Rachel's heartbeat, knowing the brisk staccato pace matched her own.

Her hand seemed to have a mind of its own as it fumbled beneath the hem of Rachel's robe. Her fingertips skated up a slender thigh, thumb caressing the groove where thigh met pelvis. Her palm crept higher, instinctively searching for the slick, wet silk that signaled the gates to the promise land. She groaned into Rachel's neck as the heavenly wetness greeted her touch.

"Oh, God…_Quinn_."

Rachel's voice, thick with arousal and desire was a shockwave to her system, zinging through her lust-filled haze and electrifying the rational part of her brain, and her eyes popped open. Quinn wrenched herself away from the tiny brunette, backing up and putting space between them. Rachel sat up in confusion, moving towards the newly skittish blonde.

"No, no, no! Y-you…you…you stay over there." Quinn slumped against Rachel's vanity, running her hands through her hair. "Oh, God…This can't be ju…I can't just do that…Not with you."

Rachel's brow was furrowed as she attempted to sort out the rambled fragments of multiple sentences. "Quinn…what are you…?"

Quinn's eyes drifted up to Rachel's. The brunette recoiled back slightly, unsure of the conflicting emotions shining in the clear, hazel depths.

Quinn shook her head, not offering any more. "I've got to go."

Rachel nodded dumbly, watching as Quinn turned and nearly sprinted out of her trailer. She sank down on to the couch, running her hands through her hair.

Outside, found Quinn practically sprinting to her trailer, dressing herself before seeking refuge in her car, wanting to get as far away from the lot as possible. She slumped in the driver's seat as she thought back to their encounter, how close she was to the tantalizing velvet depths. Her head fell forward against the steering wheel with a muted thump.

"Lucy Quinn Fabray, you are a fucking _idiot_…"

xxx-xxx-xxx

Declan Riley whistled as he bounded up the driveway to Quinn's home. Flicking through his keys until he found the correct one, he fit the key into the slot and opened the door. He wasn't sure what prompted the slightly cryptic text message from his best friend, but it was Quinn; cryptic was often a given.

"Luuuuucy, I'm hooooooome!" He chuckled at his lame joke as he made his way to the kitchen, spotting Quinn on the living room couch watching television with Charlie, a bottle of Merlot opened beside a drained wine glass. He opened the fridge, snagging a bottle of beer from the depths and plopping himself on the couch.

"What's up Lucy Q?"

Quinn chuckled weakly, shaking her head. "You haven't called me that since high school."

Declan scoffed, leaning over to grab a coaster from the stack and placing his beer on top of it. "You haven't really been Lucy Q since high school."

Quinn reclined back against the couch, her hands running through Charlie's fur as he laid his head on her knee. "Is that so bad?"

Declan craned his head to look to his best friend. She looked rather forlorn, but he decided to humor her for the moment until she gave any indication of where their conversation was headed.

"Honestly?" He shrugged. "Fundamentally, there wasn't anything wrong with Lucy Q."

"Except for a bastard father who never hesitated to remind her how far she fell from his expectations," Quinn returned wryly. "Oh, and the masses of football players who loved to play the 'Where In the School Can We Stuff Lucy Caboosey?' game."

"All those are external factors," Declan reasoned. "I meant Lucy at the core. It wasn't like she was a bad person." He cocked his head. "Is this why you asked me to come over? To rehash your insecurities about your past life?"

Quinn didn't answer for a bit, shifting as Charlie let himself down from the couch. "Yes and no," she admitted. "Rachel kissed me."

"And?"

Quinn bopped her head against the arm of the couch. "It was amazing, but it didn't stop at just kissing."

Declan's eyes widened. "You didn't…?"

"No," Quinn admitted.

"But you wanted to," Declan surmised.

"Of course I do," Quinn retorted. "I'm not blind. Rachel's hot."

Declan smiled but didn't speak, waiting for Quinn to finish her sentence. He didn't have to wait long as his best friend ruffled the back of her hair.

"I'd be an idiot if I didn't…" she grumbled.

Declan could see where this conversation was headed. Frankly, he was a bit surprised they hadn't talked about this sooner, but if anyone knew Quinn Lucas – in all her forms – it was Declan Riley, and he knew when to push and when to give her space.

"So what's the problem?" he prompted.

"I don't want this to be just something so that she can scratch an itch." Quinn waved a hand ambiguously. "You know, I don't want this to be something to satisfy a curiosity." She looked at her best friend.

"What do you think, D?"

Declan rubbed a hand over his hair. "I think that you're looking at this through the wrong set of glasses, Q."

Quinn leaned her head back against the arm of the couch, turning bleary eyes to her best friend. "What does that mean?"

Declan sighed. "Rachel is coming at you from that angle because she doesn't know about you guys from the past. She doesn't know exactly what she means to you. How can she?"

He dropped a hand down as Charlie meandered back over, scratching the Labrador behind the ears before the dog moved on to his mistress. "You've cultivated this huge romance from the first time you saw her over ten years ago, but this is a different time and difference set of circumstances. Of course Rachel isn't going to just fall in your arms and declare her undying love for you; all she has to work with is what you've been giving her throughout the movie shoot. The emotional attachment you have with her stems from an incident she has no recollection of, so you can't really fault her for assuming this could just be a physical sort of thing."

"I don't like it when you're right," Quinn grumbled, burying her face in Charlie's fur.

"Look, it's obvious this is Rachel's first time dealing with feelings that may not be common for her. She's testing the waters."

"And what?" Quinn asked. "I should just lay back, spread my legs, and pretend that I'm okay with just being her fuck buddy?"

Declan allowed a dreamy smile to encompass his handsome features as he visualized the image. Sue him, he was a straight male and Quinn and Rachel were hot. A smack to the back of his head brought him back to reality. "Ow!" He frowned. "Alright, fine, you want my advice?"

Quinn threw her hands in the air. "Sure."

"I think you should tell her exactly what she means to you. I think you should explain Lucy Fabray."

Quinn sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "I had a feeling you were going to say that…"

Charlie whined sympathetically, placing a paw on Quinn's knee in solidarity.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Back in her hotel suite, Rachel sighed miserably, flopping onto her back on the rug in front of the couch. Hugo padded over to her, splaying his upper body on her torso and curling into his owner. Rachel wrapped her arms around him, burying her nose in his fur. Hugo simply laid his head on his paws, allowing Rachel to cling to him. Not for the first time, the puppy was grateful he was such a big guy. It gave her a lot of him to hug, and it was pretty apparent, she needed cuddles.

The lock to the door engaged, and Brittany bounded into the room. Seeing the brunette huddled on the flour, she bounced over, leaning over Rachel's head. "Hiya, Ray!"

"Hey, Britt."

Brittany cocked her head at the decidedly morose tone. "What's wrong?"

"I think I messed up, Ducky."

Brittany sank down to the floor and listened quietly as Rachel recounted what happened between her and Quinn. As Rachel finished, Brittany sighed, shaking her head.

"Oh, Rachel…"

Rachel cringed, ready to brace herself for Brittany's opinion. The blonde never used full names unless it was serious.

"Don't judge me," Rachel whined.

Brittany giggled. "Oh, you're silly." She descended gracefully onto the couch, opening her arms wide and gesturing with a wiggle of her fingers. "Come on, Ray, just like we used to."

Rachel grumbled half-heartedly, clambering into Brittany's lap like she was a little baby.

Brittany cocked an eyebrow at the Rottweiler idling to the side, shifting anxiously from paw to paw. "And what are you waiting for, Mister?"

Hugo bowed his head sheepishly before slinking forward and laying his head on Rachel's knee in perfect petting distance. Rachel smiled, running her fingers through the fur at the top of his head. She buried her face in Brittany's neck as the blonde rubbed her back.

"Rachel…" For once, Brittany really seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "I know San swears otherwise, but sex doesn't magically make things simple. And when it's two lady loves, it's like doubly more insane because that's like two times the PMS…"

"I don't know what I was thinking," Rachel admitted, playing with one of Hugo's floppy ears. "We were doing the scene…and I just started _feeling_." She shrugged helplessly. "I know I was acting, but I couldn't help it. I don't know…it was like every past encounter I ever had paled in comparison."

"Like you've been listening to Ke$ha all your life and all of a sudden, someone gave you a Barbra album," Brittany finished sagely.

"Yes," Rachel whispered. "Exactly like that."

"Are you scared?"

"A little," Rachel confessed. "The idea of liking girls isn't new…it's actually having the situation occur that's a bit unsettling."

Brittany nodded her understanding. "But if Quinn were a boy, what would have happened?"

"She would be my perfect leading man," Rachel answered immediately. "With Quinn's talent and ambition and clear good looks, I would have pounced on her." She sighed. "But, Britt, it's not that easy! I can't just switch my attentions to Quinn just because she fits my idyllic profile of a leading man…as a woman."

"Well, duh," Brittany deadpanned. "But think of it this way, Ray, because you didn't think of Quinn as the PB to your J, it kind of means you got to build a super awesome friendship with her because there wasn't any pressure."

"Yes, but that would have happened if I viewed Quinn as a relationship prospect as well," Rachel argued.

Brittany shook her head in the negative. "I don't think so, Ray. I mean, no offense, but your past relationships have pretty much been at a Speedy Gonzalez speed. You found a guy you liked, went after him, and then you started dating him…although, now that I think about it, it's kinda dumb they made a mouse really, really fast. I mean, he's the fastest mouse in all of Mexico, but does that mean outside of Mexico, he's only, like, _okay_?"

Rachel sighed, trying to get the blonde back on track. "Britt…"

Brittany shook herself from her internal ponderings. "Oh, right. Anyway, my point was when was the last time you've ever _worked_ for a guy?"

Rachel thought about that. Brittany was correct in that assertion. Relationships _had_ come remarkably easy for her. It was maintaining those relationships that had proven to be difficult.

Brittany nodded, seeing the thought process progress in Rachel's expressions. "It's like when you really want something," she edified. "You _could_ go to your dads to give you the money to buy it, but it's much more awesome to earn the money yourself." She looked Rachel straight in the eye. "And when you have to work to earn it, you tend to cherish it more because of all the work and effort you put into it." Brittany cocked her head. "Do you get what I'm saying?"

"Yeah," Rachel answered.

"So you could just have sexy times with Quinn…or you could work at it and see where it goes. You might get something that could be even better." Brittany turned as serious as Rachel had ever see her, her blue eyes twinkling somberly.

"Take it from me, Ray. Sex isn't dating. Dating is so much better, and if you wait long enough and let everything happen on its own, sometimes you get something truly awesome because what happens next is…" Brittany paused. "What's the word that means you can't avoid something from happening?"

"Inevitable," Rachel supplied.

"Yeah," Brittany agreed, "that. Because it's like the natural progression…I think that's how it goes."

Rachel absorbed Brittany's words. The blonde made sense. Now, the question was: is this the direction she wished to go with Quinn? As she made her decision, standing and calling Hugo to her, she psyched herself up for the conversation that would no doubt be difficult on both ends.

xxx-xxx-xxx

The ringing of her doorbell alerted Quinn to a visitor. Confused as to who might be at the door, practically no one knew where she lived, she opened her door to find a very familiar Rottweiler squatting on her welcome mat. Hugo greeted her with a bark and a doggie grin, his tongue lolling up as he lifted a paw and batted at the air in a clear wave of hello. Knowing Rachel wouldn't just let her dog traipse all the way to her house, Quinn called out to the woman idling at the end of her driveway.

"That's sneaky, softening me up with the dog…"

Rachel shrugged as she approached the blonde. "You can't say no to this one," she reasoned, scratching Hugo behind the ears for his effort. "I figured it wouldn't hurt."

Quinn didn't answer for a moment, merely studying her costar with an unreadable expression. "We need to talk, don't we?"

Rachel nodded. "I think that would be beneficial."

Quinn led the way out the back and towards the private beach. The walked along the sand, allowing Hugo and Charlie to frolic in the distance. Quinn moved to her favorite log, settling down and patting the spot beside her. Rachel descended to her seat.

"So...what freaked you out earlier?" she ventured.

Quinn let out a deep breath. "Do you remember when I said I had to do something in Akron?"

"Yeah. You said it had to do with family."

"I said 'something like that,'" Quinn corrected. She ran a hand through the short strands of her hair. "I went to Carmel."

"Carmel?" Rachel echoed. "As in Carmel High School? As in the high school where my mom teaches?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

Quinn chuckled, her eyes taking a distant look. "Because there once was a girl there, a bit of a loner and a bit of an ugly duckling, and she was bullied. All she wanted was to be invisible, to be left alone. But her classmates weren't so kind as to oblige her. At least three times a week, she found herself hanging from the coat rack behind the door to the chemistry lab, thrown into the laundry cart of one of the sports teams, or stuffed into a locker."

Rachel frowned. "That's awful! I've never understood the barbaric nature of the teenager, even when I was one."

"Yeah, it was bad," Quinn murmured. "That girl pretty much suffered alone until one day, she was saved by a loud, tiny brunette who gave her a pep talk. She told her that being invisible was for the mediocre, that such a resilient person couldn't possibly be mediocre and gave her the first gift she had ever received that wasn't from a family member."

Rachel dropped her eyes to her palm when she felt something slipped into her hand. It was the charm she had often seen on Quinn's keys. The gems had faded from the years but the charm was still clearly a gold star. As she studied the star, the pieces fit into place, and she recalled a chubby girl with frizzy hair and thick glasses. She was rather unremarkable, except for…

"I said you had very pretty eyes," Rachel recalled, looking into said eyes, now picturing the face that had accompanied them.

"You did," Quinn affirmed. "It was the first time anyone had referred to any part of me as pretty."

"That was you," Rachel deduced. "I remember it was around Regionals time, and I was taking food to my mom. I heard a tapping as I went back to the car, and when I opened the locker it was coming from, a girl came out."

"When you gave this to me," Quinn picked up the keychain, twirling the loop around her finger, "you said that one day I'll be somewhere bigger, shining brighter than the people who stuck me in that locker ever would."

Rachel looked confused as she took in the woman beside her, so different than the girl she had rescued. "So how did that girl become…"

"I decided to take your advice," Quinn answered. "I decided to stop wanting to be invisible and start wanting to shine."

"And you became Quinn Lucas?"

Quinn chuckled, remembering her rationale the moment she registered with SAG and chose Quinn Lucas as her stage name even if any combination of her name was a viable option. "Well, Quinn is my middle name. My real name is Lucy Quinn Fabray. I learned pretty early on that you can't change your past but you can let go and start your future. I started by first becoming Quinn Fabray, head cheerleader. When I became an actor, I decided that Quinn Lucas was the next logical step."

Rachel watched as Quinn played with the sand at their feet, seemingly lost in her past. "Lucy was me, _is_ me, and I learned a lot during that part of my life. Some stuff I didn't want to ever find out. I can never escape that part of me, but I can let her go and learn from her. Quinn Lucas is kind of my way of letting go of Lucy but at the same time keeping her as a memento of sorts."

"'Lucy' in a form of 'Lucas'," Rachel remarked. "Clever." She cocked her head, a thought coming to her. "Did you know who I was when we met my first day of filming?"

"No," Quinn answered honestly. "You left before I could ask, if you remember. It wasn't until that first day Brady was here and I saw your tattoo."

"And I told you my gold star metaphor," Rachel commented.

"Yeah. It was pretty much word for word what you had told me that day at Carmel." Quinn smiled softly. "That was when I knew for sure."

"You have a tattoo on your wrist that is a gold star and says 'Shine Brighter'," Rachel remembered. "I thought it was a coincidence when I first saw it."

Again, that soft smile adorned Quinn's lips. "I got it on my eighteenth birthday. You inspired me that day. What you told me has become so much of who I am now. That's why I couldn't just have sex with you. It...wouldn't mean what I'd want it to mean."

"So where do we go from here?" Rachel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, it's obvious we have both an emotional and physical connection."

Quinn shrugged, looking out into the rapidly descending sun. "I don't know, Rachel," she admitted. "I really don't. Right now, everything's kind of messed up."

Rachel conceded that point. "But it is clear this has a chance," she edified.

Quinn chuckled. "Yeah. I just think we have to reconcile our past selves to our present selves."

"You mean you have to get that Rachel out of your head and see me as this Rachel?" Rachel ventured.

Quinn smirked, a playful leer skating up and down Rachel's body. "Oh, I'm well aware you're not your teenage self," she drawled. "I've seen it all, remember?"

Rachel snorted. "Geeze, who would've known you're such a perv?"

Quinn laughed, returning her attention to the matter at hand. "All I know is if we're doing this, you and I have to take it slow."

Rachel smirked. "Slow, huh? Yeah, okay, you were going pretty slow feeling me up in my trailer," she teased.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Unlike you, Rachel, I actually have self-control. Hence why I pulled away. Trust me, Berry, you won't seduce me into caving."

Rachel's eyes narrowed. A glint appeared in her deep brown eyes, sparkling with something that frankly set Quinn's nerves on end. Quinn had been privy to many facets, but she had never faced Rachel Berry when she wanted something. She had no idea just how annoyingly persistent the little diva could be when she set her mind to something that she would not be denied of. She was well aware of forming a strong foundation to their budding – at the moment _prospective_ –relationship, but she also knew that the physical aspect was also a significant part, and she was resolute in making sure Quinn was well aware of that fact as well.

Rachel smirked, the thoughts flying through her head and arranging themselves into a fairly cohesive plan. Alright, Miss Quinn, if that was the way you wanted to play it…

Challenge accepted.

_Aaaaand...CUT! Well, I hope that this was worth the wait. Don't worry, we're not done. Quinn and Rachel still have things to talk about, things to sort through, but they are heading in the right direction. Now, we're met with a new dynamic, however, as Quinn and Rachel battle romance with lust. However, Duty and Honor is wrapping up. Don't worry, there will still be scenes inserted so you all can get a full idea of how this movie ends and more of the story it tells, but the focus will now be shifting towards post-production, which of course means Rachel and Quinn will be released to the masses. How will this budding relationship fare with the new scrutiny that arises as they become the faces of the most controversial film of the season? Well..._

_Lol, thanks as usual for reading. I feel I should note that this story is moving towards the previously mentioned M rating, so it will be under that designation for when you search for it. I hope that doesn't scare you guys away! _

_As usual, please feel free to let me know what you think by the various avenues: Twitter, Tumblr, etc...it's always fun to hear from readers!_

_Until next time, which I pray won't be two months later..._

_*ISP_


	13. Chapter 12

_Um…hi…Er… *Scuffs shoe* My bad? Let's just say real life got in the way…_

_So, this is my cathartic release to the shit show – lol, no pun intended – that has been Glee this season and will surely be Glee next season. Enjoy them while you can, people, it's about to get a whole lot worse…_

_And so we have the start of this so-far-undefinied Faberry relationship. Rachel will while Quinn sets her sights on wooing our dear little diva. Who will prevail? Honestly, does it matter? Lol, fasten your seatbelts, Ducklings…it's about to get crazy!_

_Also, I'm making a few assumptions about NYADA as we don't really know much yet about how it operates as a university. Lol, honestly, knowledge of NYADA shouldn't be a factor beyond from the knowledge that it is where Rachel ends up, but again, that's just my opinion._

_Also, also, please send many, many, MANY thanks to my wonderful beta CJ, __**CJersey82**__, over at Twitter and Tumblr. She got me out of my rut and got me moving on this story again!_

_And now…_

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 12<span>

_**Rachel Berry strode into the studio where the final callbacks were located. This was the last step in the process; a final in front of the bigwigs of the show, including the director and main producers. If she nailed this audition, she was that much closer to her Broadway dream. She knew that they were going to ask her to belt the eleven o'clock number, and she was ready.**_

_** Rachel settled in the straight-backed chair, setting her bag beside her. The butterflies fluttered through her stomach, but she embraced them, allowing them to fuel her drive. She would need them to play on her emotions.**_

_** Rachel felt a presence beside her, and as she looked up, she was chagrined to notice her mouth dropped open. Marissa Lynch settled beside her, sorting through her sheet music and checking her phone.**_

_** "Hi."**_

_** Rachel inclined her head, hoping she didn't have the deer-in-the-headlights looks she thought she did. "Hello."**_

_** Marissa smiled. "I haven't seen you around auditions before. Are you new to the business?"**_

_** "Kind of," Rachel hedged. Marissa's tone was negligent in that **_

'_**precursory small talk that I don't really care about' manner. "I'm still in school. A couple more weeks."**_

_** This time Marissa's interest was a bit more genuine. "Oh? Where?"**_

_** "Tisch," Rachel answered.**_

_** "Interesting…" Marissa pointed to herself. "NYADA."**_

_** Rachel nodded. She had heard about the performing arts college, consistently ranked as one of the best schools for musical theatre. Her own college choices had been between NYADA and Tisch, but with her acceptance in to both programs, Rachel went with the latter, hoping to broaden her understanding of her craft with the more multi-faceted curriculum Tisch offered. Rachel liked to think of herself as a student of the arts, not just musical theatre. Still, looking at the woman beside her, Rachel couldn't help but allow the sliver of doubt to flit through her mind, contemplating the possibility of how her career would have progressed – budding as it was – if she had attended NYADA, a school solely dedicated to musical theatre.**_

_** As the small talk continued, there was a calculating glimmer in Marissa's eyes that Rachel immediately picked up on. The elder woman was fishing for information, gauging her competition and gauging exactly how much of a threat Rachel posed. "How did you hear about this project?"**_

_** "One of my professors, Edward Harmon, recommended me," Rachel responded. "Apparently he has ties to the production team. He's good friends with the director, I think."**_

_** The other woman hummed, flicking a stray wave from her forehead. As she started to talk about herself, Rachel did her own study of her competition. Rachel knew who the other woman was; Marissa Lynch was everything Rachel wished for herself. The woman had appeared in both **_**Chicago**_** and **_**Wicked**_**, but had never originated a role for herself, and therefore had never been in consideration for a Tony. So, it wasn't surprising to find the starlet interested in this production. **_**Thoroughly Modern Millie**_** was the hottest new show out there, and with the current names attached to the project, the Broadway community was already generating preemptive buzz considering the fledgling project as a contender for all the major awards.**_

_** Rachel started as Marissa laid a hand on her arm. She glanced up at a pair of eyes shining with a phony compassionate stare. "Honey, look, I'm all for those starting out and getting a leg up, but I'm going to extend a tidbit of professional courtesy here: Don't even bother. I've got the name, the talent, and the experience. You don't stand a chance. This role is mine."**_

_**Rachel was slightly taken aback, and she merely blinked and smiled brightly. "Yes, well, I shall still extend sentiments of good luck to you. Forgive me for not taking your word at face value, but I'll leave this decision to the producers." Rachel glanced up as her name was called into the audition room and rose, offering a parting nod to the starlet. **_

_**As she looked back on her first audition and reflected on the experience, in retrospect, Rachel figured that if Marissa Lynch had simply ignored her, it probably would have been her with the role of Millie and the subsequent Tony nomination and win. Given that it was her first audition, it would have been a plausible notion that Rachel could have allowed the nerves to get the better of her with the weight of the role hanging over her head. It would have been plausible to assume that Rachel could have very well choked. But Marissa, like many others, had committed the foolish, ill-advised error of challenging Rachel. Not only challenging Rachel but outright dismissing her. So, instead, Rachel Berry went into her final audition with a fire in her eyes, a roaring in her ears, and an attitude that she simply would not be denied of this role; she made it damn clear that the producers and director would be painfully remiss in passing her over for Millie. The production team agreed, and mere months later, Rachel Berry stood on the stage at Radio City Music Hall receiving the Tony Award for Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Musical.**_

_** And as Rachel entered the after party thrown by the producers of **_**Millie**_**, flanked by Brittany and Santana, she stood amongst her cast, incandescent in her radiance. With a bright smile teeming with joy, she fielded congratulations as she turned to their Trevor Graydon, Marcus Kantor, she found herself staring at Marissa Lynch, who had accompanied Marcus as his date for the night. Rachel looked at the other girl, remembering their exchange right before her final audition. She had often wondered if Marissa recognized her or if she was just another face the starlet saw in her way in her quest for Millie. She wondered if Marissa ever really considered her a threat, or if the established star had disregarded Rachel and her prospective talent. As she looked up into the sharp brown eyes in front of her, clinging to Marcus's arm as a spectator to the festivities rather than a participant, Rachel didn't say anything. There was nothing that needed to be said.**_

Rachel Berry had never been one to back down from a challenge. It simply was not in her blood. It wasn't that she didn't respect the blonde's wishes, it was just because Quinn alluded that it couldn't be done.

Perhaps it was a bit of an inferiority complex that dated back to her high school days, perhaps it was a bit of her stubborn, bull-headed personality shining through, but she definitely didn't like it when she was told something couldn't be done, and it just fortified her desire to prove the doubters wrong. So when Quinn issued the challenge as she did, it was only fitting that Rachel would take it head on and with a bit of insolent defiance. After all, it wouldn't do for Quinn to have all the fun.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel and Quinn sat comfortably on a log, staring out into the horizon as they conversed, seemingly in their own world. From a distance away, a young Rottweiler and a Labrador sat placidly in the sand, watching curiously as the distance separating their two owners gradually diminished until Rachel was practically in Quinn's lap.

Hugo sat up straighter, turning to his elder companion. _What are they doing?_

Charlie huffed with the sage and wisdom of a dog who had a couple years behind him. _This, my young friend, is part of the human mating process._

Hugo cocked his head. _But they're just sitting there and talking._ He turned to Charlie. _I thought you're supposed to, you know, _he gestured with a paw _…from behind?_

_Humans don't work that way,_ Charlie explained. _The human mating process is different. Humans need to connect with their mate through their feelings as well as their bodies. If two humans don't get along with their feelings, the relationship isn't complete._

Hugo dropped his head, shaking it back and forth. _That sounds complicated. Wouldn't it be easier just to…you know?_

Charlie chuckled. _Yeah, but some humans, especially females, don't really like it when you try to do that. Quinn got slapped once because she went that route._

Hugo digested that for a moment. _So…now what?_

Charlie shrugged negligently. He had learned a long time ago to just let humans do their thing. He knew Quinn was an immensely complicated person, but she could keep their complicated life as long as she kept supplying the food, water, and Beggin' Strips…and love, of course. She was good at giving the love. _Who knows? We just have to see what happens next…_

Hugo nodded, once again digesting information. Humans were infinitely complicated, he decided. Another thought came to his mind, and he turned again to seek the wisdom of his fellow canine. _Hey, Charlie, can I ask you something?_

Charlie nodded. _Sure, kid._

_Does it really hurt when they…_ Hugo ducked his head down to his pelvic region, _You know?_

Charlie patted the puppy's side in sympathy. _Like you wouldn't believe, kid._

Hugo ducked his head down, covering it with his paws as he let out a piteous whimper. _Aw, man…_

xxx-xxx-xxx

Chris Keller walked onto the set of his masterpiece, his pet project, perhaps the most socially relevant film he had ever endeavored to capture. His attention was on his phone, sifting through the various emails from his agent, informing him of interview requests and other offers for both _D&H_ and other prospective projects.

Maybe.

Yes.

No.

Hell no.

What the flying…_really_?!

Shaking his head at the audacity of some insufferable pundits trying to take his film and make it part of their foundation for their platform centering around the idea that "today's youth are becoming increasingly corrupted by the liberal messages of deviance being pushed upon them in the form of all popular visual and auditory media, thereby eschewing the traditional values that our country was founded on…_blah, blah, blah_…" Chris returned his attention to something a bit more pleasing than the latest conservative talking head attempting to trick him into an appearance on a talk show for the sole purpose of lambasting his character and pushing the conservative agenda under the guise of an interview. He stopped on the edge of the set and surveyed the gathered cast and crew in front of him.

Quinn and Rachel, as usual (he wasn't sure why he doubted that fact after those few months), were in the thick of things. Rachel was sitting opposite of Tommy Ballinger, one of their grips, both of her hands encompassed in his massive paw. A little pink tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she pushed with all of her little might against the big, meaty arm. Quinn was right behind her, egging her on as Rachel struggled to even budge Tommy's hand. Arm wrestling, Chris mused with a wry smile. At least it wasn't the massive pong game he had walked in on in the area by the trailers, aptly called "Parking Lot Pong." It was similar to beer pong, but with soda (they were professional after all) and in a much larger capacity. He wasn't quite sure where they had found forty-two five-gallon buckets or the random softball, but both had served to execute their game rather well.

It was a nice change in vibe, he had to admit. The atmosphere had always been electric around the set of _Duty and Honor, _but these days it had dulled to a low hum. A sort of melancholia had set about the cast and crew as their wrap date drew rapidly nearer. The scheduling had been thrown off a bit with Rachel and Quinn taking their short trip to Lima, so the last two scenes that needed to be filled, both love scenes, were really just the two leads. This was different from the first love scene, and it was obvious the change came from their two stars.

Chris watched them from afar, a small smile playing on his face. If there was one thing that could be said about the young director, it was that he was very perceptive about the mood on the set. He could see the playful coming from and knew that the scene would be. He stayed a bit away, still observing Rachel and Quinn, smirking as Rachel distracted Tommy with a sharp kick to the shin, just enough to startle the bigger man in to slacking his grip slightly. With a grin, Rachel pushed hard, sending Tommy's hand to the table with a resounding thump. Leaping from her chair, she danced around the set, arms pumping in triumph as Tommy took his defeat gracefully, slapping cash into Quinn's outstretched palm that the blonde handed off to Brittany with a high-five.

She was standing very close to Quinn, almost molding her slender body to the leanly muscled one beside her. Rachel had her head tilted up, chin propped on Quinn's chest, speaking quietly to her costar. Quinn smiled indulgently at Rachel, an arm slung casually around Rachel's shoulders. Whatever Rachel said sent Quinn into amused chuckles, and the blonde turned her casual hold into a full-on hug, resting her chin on Rachel's head.

Hmmmm…Chris cocked an eyebrow, nudging his glasses higher on his nose. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn something happened between his two leads. But he did know better…so he was absolutely positive something happened.

He looked at the two women, head tilted as he watched their interaction. Oh, yeah, he saw that lingering touch, those lingering glances…Ooooh, smooth, Quinn. Way to cop the subtle feel. Yeah, they were doing it…maybe literally, maybe figuratively, but Chris was certain the relationship between his two leads had changed.

He called out to the group, "Hey, you two ready?"

With various murmurs of the affirmative, the cast and crew dispersed, manning their respective positions. Rachel beamed, skipping to the set and assuming her mark. "Ready, Chris!" she chirped.

Quinn moved at a much more sedate pace than her costar, shooting a thumbs up to him. Chris nodded, settling into his chair behind the camera.

"Alright, ladies, let's roll!"

* * *

><p><em>"Hey."<em>

_ "Hey." Mia frowned, approaching the Marine. She hooked a finger into the collar of Sloane's v-neck t-shirt, parting the divide to see the beginnings of a mottled bruise._

_ "I didn't see that one yesterday. Did it just appear?"_

_ Sloane smirked, placing her hand over the smaller, tanned one on her collarbone. She leaned in, lips brushing against Mia's in a teasing kiss. "That one wasn't from JJ…"_

_ Mia's cheeks flushed as she realized exactly who was responsible for the mark. "Oh…" She cocked her head, nose wrinkling cutely. "I don't think there's a surefire medical remedy for a subcutaneous hematoma besides, you know, ice…"_

_ Sloane's smirk widened. "Always playing doctor, huh?"_

_ Mia shrugged. "Can't help it."_

_ A playful glint shone in the hazel spheres of the taller blonde, and Sloane stepped forward, forcing Mia to take a reflexive step back. The blonde kept advancing until she trapped the other woman against the front counter. "Sounds like fun."_

_ "R-role play, I can do," Mia stammered, eyelids fluttering at the press of lean, hard body against hers. She was trying hard to keep her mental facilities about herself, but that was never easy with Sloane in her presence. "But I'm not one for exhibitionism."_

_ Sloane stopped short, her brows drawing together. Mia gave her a pointed look, and hitched her chin over Sloane's shoulder. Confused, the Marine directed her gaze behind her. She chuckled, conceding Mia's point as she looked out to see the town gazebo in the middle of the square with the view offered from the large front windows. _

_ "Alright, alright, I get it. No one wants a Peeping Tom perving at them."_

_Shaking her head, Sloane broke away and flipped the sign over to its 'Closed' designation and locked the bakery front door, drawing the blinds down over the glass. She turned around and spotted Mia in the backroom, hovering over the counter._

_ "So why'd you call me over?" Sloane asked as she sidled up behind the smaller brunette, dropping her chin on the curve of Mia's shoulder. _

_ "I thought you could help me. I'm trying to figure out which icing goes best with the new cupcake recipe I'm trying," Mia mused, surveying the counter in front of her, hands on her hips. "So far, I'm down to these four." She craned her head to the side, reaching a hand up to lightly run her fingers through Sloane's perpetually unruly hair._

_ "Think you're up to the task?"_

_ Sloane smirked. "Alright."_

_ Without much fanfare, Sloane whirled Mia around, pinning the baker to the counter. Reaching over, Sloane scooped a bit of the frosting from the bowl, painting a thin line down the column of Mia's neck. She grinned, ducking her head down. A glint in her eyes, she licked along the path of icing, chasing it away from lightly tanned skin. Sloane contemplated the flavors on her tongue with a smirk tilting her lips._

_ "Hmmm, not bad."_

_ Mia squeaked, her fingers tightening reflexively against Sloane's shirt. "Y-you're supposed to taste it with the c-cupcake," she stuttered out._

_ "You taste better than any cupcake," Sloane asserted, dipping her head down again to make sure she had rid Mia's neck of any trace of the icing._

_ "O-okay then…"_

_ That wolfish grin still curving her mouth, Sloane sampled the next flavor. This time, she smeared a thick line over Mia's collarbone, making sure her teeth joined in the fun._

_ "I think I like that one better," she remarked._

_ She dipped her fingers in the last bowl, spreading the smooth over the swell of Mia's breast peeking out from the dip in her layered tank tops. Sloane bent her head, her tongue wandering a path to the sweet frosting, patiently lapping at the topping until none of it was left. She raised her head, grinning at the wide-eyed look on Mia's face, a mixture of arousal and swirling in the dark chocolate depths._

_ "I think that was my favorite."_

_ Mia didn't answer, merely panted. A beat passed between the two lovers before Mia grabbed Sloane's face, crushing their lips together. Sloane's gasp of surprise was quickly quelled by a sneaky tongue sliding between her lips to tangle deliciously with hers._

_ Sloane grunted, boosting the tiny baker onto the counter. She growled low in her throat as Mia instinctively rolled forward, a hot whimper sounding in her ear. Blindly, she fumbled between their bodies to the waistband of Mia's jean shorts, deftly yanking at the button closure and tugging down the zipper. Eyes locked onto Mia's, Sloane slid her palm down a tanned, toned abdomen, moving aside lacy silk, to the warm, welcoming heat beneath. She hissed out a pleased groan, relishing in the tiny moan that fluttered from Mia's lips. Mia arched back, her palms braced on the counter, presenting her slender neck for Sloane to feast._

_ Mia gazed up at her lover through hooded lids, and a thrill rolled down her spine at the wolfish grin. Very little could have possibly be sexier to Mia at this moment, and she was reminded exactly what drew her to the Marine in the first place. Beneath the blonde's admittedly gruff and slightly surly demeanor was a quiet confidence, a giving, generous heart, and that absolutely adorable bashful charm. But at the core was a very strong woman. Mia could see it in the intensity of beautiful hazel eyes, in the bulge of lean muscles, and in that wonderfully resilient personality._

_ Sloane leaned in, nibbling on as she surged forward, her fingers ensconced by the slick velvet warmth of Mia's sex. She smirked against Mia's cheek at the expelled curse, and Sloane drove forward again, groaning low in her throat as Mia's hips lifted to meet her fingers. _

_ Back and forth they rocked, the pace slow and even. Gradually, she quickened her thrusts, fingers driving deeper and with more intent. Mia's body was her symphony, and she was the conductor. They were a classical music piece, like one of Beethoven's symphonies or Mozart's concertos. They began with an opening sonata, tantalizing and engaging, the swift and changing cadence bringing Mia both closer and farther to release. The second movement evened the pace to _adagio_, slowing to a lilting, romantic pulse. Sloane's thrusts deepened and smoothened, the Marine's brow furrowing as she drove relentlessly to completion. Mia could feel it building, like a third movement escalating to a fast _scherzo_, Mia's hips rolling against her fingers more urgently, her own thrusts becoming sloppier. She could feel them racing to the finale, sprinting to the complementing allegro, highlighted with a crescendo that grew in volume and intensity. Mia could feel it, the release building like a drumroll and accented with a cymbal crash as she let out a long, throaty moan of completion. Her hips slowed, receding back to _diminuendo_, and, finally, she stilled, _al niente_…silence. The conductor took a bow. Perfection. _

_Mia clutched at Sloane, the tremors of pleasure ebbing from until only her harsh pants sounded as she fought to catch her breath_.

"_I…I think we're gonna have to sample them again. I don't think you got a good enough taste."_

_Sloane only grinned, obligingly dipping her fingers into the first bowl of frosting again._

* * *

><p>"CUT!" Chris clapped his hands. "Awesome, ladies, print that."<p>

He grinned as he approached his two leads, sling his arms around two sets of shoulders. He waggled his eyebrows. "Me likey." His breath left his lungs in a huff as two simultaneous smacks impacted strongly with his stomach.

"Perv," Quinn accused.

Chris lofted his hands in defense. "I'm just saying, cinematically, it was gorgeous…and hot." His grin widened. "Best of both worlds."

"Just when we think you're a progressive, sensitive, enlightened male," Rachel sighed.

"Hey, for most guys my age, their film experience involves a handheld camera filming amateur pornos with a drunk chick who can't figure out that the little red light is not a figment of her inebriated stupor," Chris defended. "At least I'm trying to break ground for a social issue. I'd think I'm ahead of the curve, wouldn't you say?"

"He's got a point," Quinn conceded after sharing a glance with Rachel. "We rescind that statement. We appreciate your forward thinking," she began.

"Because, you know, we are your stars, and we're kind of grateful for you." Rachel finished.

"How cute," Chris drawled, clasping his hands together. "You're finishing each other's sentences now. Call me when you finish braiding friendship bracelets. I call dibs on the blue one." At the matching glares, he chuckled.

"Seriously, though, wonderful job, ladies. These scenes were everything I could have hoped for between you."

"Thanks, Chris," the two chorused.

"You know, people thought I was crazy for undertaking this," Chris began conversationally. "'How can a straight, young male be able to adequately convey the sensitivity of this subject?' was the biggest concern." He looked between his two stars. "I may have put it all to paper, but you guys bring it to life and give it heart. Thanks."

"No, Chris," Rachel began.

"Thank _you_," Quinn finished.

Chris grinned, giving each woman a hug and a kiss before retreating back behind the camera to go over their last scene.

Quinn turned to her costar, bumping Rachel's hip with her own. "Hey."

Rachel returned the bump. "Hi."

"I kind of want to cook tonight," Quinn began conversationally as they started the trek back to their trailers. "You want to come over? It would be a shame to cook for just one."

"Depends," Rachel, twirling around to face Quinn, her hands teasingly behind her back as she ambled backwards. "Will it be considered a date?"

Quinn wrinkled her nose, mulling over that notion. "Probably not," she confessed. "I'd like our official first date to be a bit more romantic than just a cookout at my place. That's like…'comfortable fifth date' status."

Rachel laughed. "You do realize that's a moot point," she reminded Quinn cheekily. "It's not like your house is a mystery to me."

"Still," Quinn insisted. "First dates require more pomp and circumstance." She nearly stomped her foot in frustration. "You're supposed to be wooed." She halted at the giggle and stiffened defensively, shooting the perpetrator a glare. "What?"

"Nothing." Rachel shrugged, an insolent grin dotting her features. "It's just…who knew you were such the traditional romantic?"

Quinn flushed, ducking her head down and rubbing the back of her neck. "Sorry. I guess when I came out to my mom, she had to acclimate herself to the idea of an open homosexual lifestyle."

"Don't be sorry. It's cute." Rachel cocked her head. "I'm guessing her ignorance came from your father's influence?"

"Yeah." Quinn's lips twitched upward at the thought of those early days. "She still had a ways to go, and the easiest way to do so was to assign gender roles. I guess she thought I suited the guy in a traditional relationship and proceeded to school me on exactly how to treat a woman." Quinn shrugged. "It was her way of familiarizing herself to my situation. She gets it now, though."

"She's done well," Rachel placated the blonde. "You're more of a gentleman than any of my previous boyfriends have ever been."

"I told you we were going to do this right," Quinn affirmed resolutely. "That I was going to…" Quinn dragged a hand through her hair, wincing as the sappiness hit her. "That I was going to _court_ you."

"Alright, Quinn," Rachel conceded with a smirk. "I'll allow you to woo me."

There was a glimmer in Rachel's dark eyes as she acquiesced. Somehow Quinn knew that it wasn't gonna be _that_ easy…

xxx-xxx-xxx

As Quinn put the finishing touches on the vegan-friendly pasta, she glanced up as she heard Rachel calling her greeting from outside the house. She wondered how it got to this point where Rachel merely strolled through her door after hollering from the driveway. It seemed like forever ago that she actually distanced herself from her castmates, that she eschewed the idea of forming lasting relationships beyond a professional context. She shook her head. It seemed like a lot had changed with Rachel.

She smiled as Hugo bounded in the house, pausing to give Quinn a bark before loping over to join Charlie. Her smile widened as Rachel followed, clad in a loose Chargers t-shirt and a pair of tiny jean shorts that highlighted her pert posterior and killer legs.

"Hey, pasta's almost ready." Quinn leaned down, greeting Rachel with a kiss on the cheek, hitching her head towards the back of the house. "You can hang in the backyard and chill if you want."

Rachel coyly contemplated her options, causing the hair on Quinn's neck to prickle with anxiety. Quinn wasn't sure she liked that glint in Rachel's eyes.

The devious little diva cocked her head. "I think I'll lounge in the hot tub."

Quinn struggled to swallow as Rachel crossed her arms over her stomach, whipping off the baby blue shirt to reveal a black bikini that was a whole lot of straps and very little material. A gold bar sat nestled in her cleavage, five thin straps fanning out before transitioning to the bandeau top that molded deliciously to Rachel's breasts. Quinn's gaze drifted down to the bikini bottoms, another five straps winding their way around Rachel's hips, clasped by two gold bars that led to the triangle that covered Rachel's intimate parts.

Her jaw sagged as Rachel moved towards her, the corners of her mouth curling up mischievously. As the tiny diva stopped in front of her, Quinn felt a little squeak escape her throat. Rachel looked up coyly from beneath her eyelashes.

"I know you still have to grill, but, you know, I'd kinda rather you'd come with me."

Quinn groaned. The innuendo wasn't lost on her, and her fingers tightened reflexively against Rachel's hips. "Rachel…"

"I know what you said, Quinn," she husked, pressing her body up against the blondes. Quinn groaned as the womanly curves molded so deliciously to her frame. "I respect that." Rachel ran her hands up Quinn's torso to drape around the blonde's neck. She leaned in, mouth inches away from Quinn's ear, close enough so that her lips teased the lobe as they formed words.

"But don't think I won't make it _extremely_ hard for you…"

Quinn's grip on Rachel's hips reflexively tightened. She whimpered, dropping her head down on Rachel's shoulder.

"Meanie…"

Rachel chuckled lowly, running her hands over the unruly strands of Quinn's hair. She loved how Quinn styled her hair two different ways: a sleek, sophisticated look or letting her hair run wild to frame her face like a lion's mane. She breathed in the fruity, flowery scent of Quinn's perfume.

"You smell good. How do you always smell so good?"

She didn't catch the mumbled response into the curve of her neck, but she felt the subtle caress of lips. Rachel frowned as her sentence registered in her mind, and she cocked her head.  
>"I just had the weirdest sense of déjà vu…"<p>

This time she heard Quinn's laugh as the blonde lifted her face from Rachel's shoulder. "You said that as I was carrying you in the house the night of your UPRIGHT Cabaret show."

"Huh…" Rachel pondered that for a moment before she shrugged. "Well, _in vino veritas_. It must be true now."

"Now that you've said it sober as well?"

"Drunk words are sober thoughts," Rachel affirmed. "And that one has run through my mind every time you've come close to me."

"I just want you to know," Quinn began tugging absently at the end of Rachel's ponytail, "I'm not gonna date anyone else. It's just you."

Rachel hummed her agreement. "The appeal of casual dating has always eluded me. I have very monogamous tendencies."

Quinn chuckled. "Is that your way of saying it's just me, too?"

"I admit my verbosity has often been a matter of frustration for a few of my former romantic interests." Rachel shrugged dismissively. "I've never doubted your intelligence in deciphering my message."

Quinn cocked an eyebrow. "Weirdest compliment ever."

"My bad," Rachel apologized. She winked, snaking a hand along Quinn's hip to her behind, helping herself to a generous handful and a playful slap. "I like your ass."

Quinn laughed, turning back towards the kitchen counter. She handed Rachel a wine glass filled with Pinot Grigio before preparing her own drink. Rachel watched as Quinn scrutinized the bottle of Johnnie Walker she laid out on the island before filling a tumbler with the amber liquid. Curiously, she filed away that reaction before taking Quinn's outstretched hand, allowing the blonde to lead her to the backyard and into the hot tub.

There was an easy intimacy between them as the pair settled into the warm water. Rachel fit into the curve of Quinn's arm as though she were made for the little nook. They looked out to the gorgeous view of the beach and horizon, past where Hugo and Charlie bounded through the grass.

"The view is so gorgeous out here," Rachel murmured. "There's no way I'd ever get tired of it.

Quinn hummed her agreement, taking a sip of her drink. "It's one of the reasons why I wanted to live here." She looked out to the endless ocean. "The beach was always kind of my place to go when things were rough. I guess it made sense that I would build a home around it."

"This is your escape," Rachel edified.

"Yup." Quinn tilted her head. "You know, before you, not many people knew where I lived. Even my castmates for _Queen_ hadn't seen my house before."

Rachel laughed. "You're blaming me for socializing you?"

"Yes," Quinn responded succinctly, tilting her head down to Rachel's. "I blame you for a lot of the current developments in my life."

Rachel giggled, pushing at Quinn's shoulder. The blonde settled back against the side of the hot tub, smirking as Rachel shifted, swinging a leg over to straddle Quinn's hips. Rachel wriggled to make herself comfortable, slinging her arms around Quinn's neck. The lopsided grin Quinn sported deepened as the blonde nibbled at Rachel's jawline. Her hands began to wander, palming Rachel's hips before continuing their journey. Her fingers skittered up a toned, bronzed back, pausing at the nape, then shifting course to make their way down Rachel's ribs. Rachel hissed out her approval; Quinn's touch was a shockwave that rippled through every nook and cranny of her body.

"You can't say that all those current developments were bad, can you?" Rachel whispered, pulling back slightly to stare into Quinn's eyes. The spheres of green, gold, and brown had darkened, the desire prominent in the swirling depths. "I'm rather amenable to our current situation."

Quinn chuckled lowly, "I suppose you're right," she answered with a wry smile. "I didn't expect it to start that way, though. Who knew you were the type to tug people into trailers as indication you're attracted to them?" She nipped Rachel's collarbone to add some levity to her words. "I'm the subtle assassin. I sneak up on you when you least expect it."

"I didn't hear you complaining at the time," Rachel retorted, subtly rolling her hips, delighting in the growl torn from Quinn's throat. "I'm glad we're exploring this."

"I'm glad you saved me from that locker over ten years ago," Quinn responded.

Rachel laughed, leaning in, her intent clear. Their lips met in a sensual caress, moving languidly against each other. Rachel made the first move to deepen the kiss, her tongue meandering out to trace against the seam of Quinn's lips before scraping her teeth lightly against Quinn's top lip.

Quinn groaned low in her throat, allowing Rachel entrance. The nimble pink tongue slipped past her parted lips to flick lightly against her own. Her hands took on a mind of their own, hooking fingers into the straps sandwiching Rachel's hips. She could feel the inferno building between them. The physical indicators were there.

Unfortunately, the decision was made for her as her sister's personal ringtone abruptly shattered the sensual atmosphere. Quinn frowned and looked towards the source of the disturbance. She leaned over the side of the hot tub, fishing the device out of her shorts. Rachel groaned at the ruined moment, burying her face in Quinn's neck as the blonde answered the call.

"Geeze, loser! Cockblock much?"

Frannie let out a bark of surprised laughter. "Okay…first? Ew. Second, watch your language; the kids are going to be around. Third, let us in, we're at your house."

"What do you mean you're at my house? Like seriously…?" Quinn recoiled back, looking at her phone as though it suddenly spouted Russian. Deciphering the train of conversation from what she heard from Quinn's end, Rachel figured they weren't going to be alone for much longer and eased herself off her rather delectable companion. The blonde voiced her displeasure with a barely audible whine, prompting Rachel to laugh. Quinn grumbled and grabbed a towel, following Rachel in her exit as she returned her attention to the conversation.

"No, I'm just looking at another bohemian beach house that looks exactly like yours." Frannie responded blithely. "Duh."

"A heads up would have been nice," Quinn retorted, cradling the phone on her shoulder, wrestling herself into her shorts. "You know, for courtesy's sake?"

"Pshhh," Quinn's claim was dismissed with a flippant scoff. "What's courtesy among family? Am I really interrupting something?" Frannie's tone held much amusement as she teased her little sister. "A hot tryst with a not-quite-out-and-about starlet? Another underwear model, perhaps?"

"Not anymore," Quinn shot back. She stomped to her front door, yanking it open, hanging up the phone to address her sister directly. "I actually have a social life, you know."

"Charlie and Declan don't count," Frannie deadpanned, slipping her own phone into her purse. She cocked an eyebrow at the murderous look on Quinn's face, taking in the damp bikini top and the curious red mark marring Quinn's neck. "Wait, you're actually serious? I really did interrupt something?" Frannie's expression turned gleeful. "Awesome."

"Just so you know, I would like to get laid some time in the near future," Quinn pointed out, stepping back to allow Frannie entrance. "You being here is not conducive to that happening."

"Ew," Frannie declared again pointedly as she hip-checked her sister before bussing a kiss to her cheek. "Now I'm _so_ glad to see you, little sis."

"Love you too, Fran." Quinn grinned as her brother-in-law ducked into the house, shepherding the two Prescott children in ahead of him. "Hey, Trey." Quinn rose up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to the bearded cheek of her brother-in-law.

"What up, Q-Ball?" Trey wrapped a long arm around her neck, bending her forward in a light headlock so he could ruffle her hair. "Sorry to just show up. It was Frannie's idea."

"She never knocked when we were kids, why start now?" Quinn remarked dryly. Trey released her and enfolded her in a massive bear hug. For all her bluster, she really didn't mind the intrusion; it had been ages since she had seen Frannie and the rest of the Prescott brood with them residing in Boston. For all that Russell Fabray had hated in his eldest's choice of suitors, Quinn loved. Trey was like the big brother she always wanted, and the man was even more of a nerd than she was. To Fran's everlasting chagrin, the two could spend hours trying to out-nerd one another.

"Aunt Quinn!"

"Hayley Q! How's my best girl?" Fran's oldest, Hayley Quinn Prescott, was an almost spitting image of Fran. Standing slightly back from the group, Rachel watched in absolute amusement as aunt and niece commenced an elaborate handshake complete with hip-bumps and finger-wiggles.

Quinn ruffled Hayley's hair. "Where's your brother?"

Hayley hitched a thumb behind her, and sure enough, toddling at a more sedate pace, was a tow-headed, little brunette boy with lighter blue eyes. He lofted a chubby hand in greeting.

"DJ!" Quinn stooped down, snatching up Fran's younger child, Davis John Prescott, IV, affectionately dubbed DJ. "How're you, little dude?"

"Good," he answered softly.

"You gonna give me some love?"

He smiled his shy smile, leaning in to press a kiss to his aunt's cheek.

"Aunt Quinn, who's that?"

Quinn's attention turned to her niece, whose eyes were fixated behind her, and Quinn turned to find a thankfully clothed Rachel hovering at the doorway separating the foyer from the kitchen and living room and watching the proceedings with a small smile. "That's Rachel. She's my friend. We're doing a movie together."

"Is she a movie star like you?"

"She's even better," Quinn answered. "She acts and sings on a stage."

"Like the ones in New York?"

"Yes, honey, like the ones in New York."

Hayley deemed that piece of information enough to approach her aunt's guest. She stuck out a hand as she stopped before Rachel. "Hello, I'm Hayley Quinn Prescott."

Rachel grinned, graciously shaking the proffered hand. "It's very nice to meet you, Miss Hayley Quinn Prescott."

At Rachel's beaming smile, Hayley's mouth fell open slightly. "You're very pretty."

"Thank you."

Rachel approached Quinn holding DJ. "And who's this handsome little guy?"

"This is Davis John, IV. We call him DJ." Quinn jiggled the boy on her hip. "Say hello, dude."

DJ, ever the shy one, buried his face in his aunt's neck. Still, he offered out a softly mumbled, "Hello."

"Hi, DJ," Rachel beamed again. Her smile was infectious, evidenced as DJ grinned back.

Hayley, who had been studying Rachel with extreme scrutiny the moment she had been introduced to her aunt's costar, gasped sharply and ran to her mother, tugging on her Frannie's hand.

"Mommy, it's Millie!"

Frannie cocked her head, wiggling the hand being hugged to Hayley's chest. "What's that Hales?"

"Remember?" Hayley began chattering excitedly. "With the elevator, and she danced with Jimmy on the ledge! Remember?" Hayley started twirling around the foyer, arms spread out, warbling a line from one of the songs. "'The waaaay…yoooou…maaaake…meeee…feeeeeel!'" Hayley twirled to a stop, slightly breathless, in front of her mother. "Remember?"

Rachel laughed, recognizing the bridge of "I Turned the Corner" from the second act of _Thoroughly Modern Millie_. "I take it you've seen me before."

"Mommy and Daddy took me for my birthday!" Hayley affirmed. "You were amaaaaaazing!"

"Oh, you're Rachel _Berry_." Frannie deduced. "I'm sorry I didn't make the connection from the Rachel Quinn has been talking endlessly about and the Rachel that was on the stage that night."

Rachel waved it off with a blush. "Between the flapper outfit and that bob, I had a hard time recognizing myself."

"You _were_ amazing," Frannie complimented.

Rachel smiled, inclining her head graciously. "Thank you."

As the ever-energetic Hayley let out another shout. "Charlie!"

The Labrador perked up at the familiar voice and bounded in the room, barking excitedly around the young girl. DJ squirmed in Quinn's hold, and she lowered him to the ground. DJ toddled towards Charlie, babbling at the Labrador as he flung his little arms around the dog's neck. Hugo appeared in the room as well, slightly confused at all the new people and unfamiliar noise. Again, Hayley was the first one to notice him.

"Aunt Quinn, who's that?"

"That's Hugo," Rachel answered. "He's my dog."

Hugo inched forward, halting beside his mistress. His head tilted to the side as he appraised the new humans. One had the same fur as Quinn, and he quickly deduced the other yellow-furred one as litter-mate to Quinn. His eyes then settled on the little humans, obviously just pups like himself. The littlest one was looking at him intently, and Hugo crept forward before settling down on his haunches.

Rachel and Quinn both hovered closely as they weren't sure how Hugo would handle children. Surprisingly, DJ waddled forward to meet Hugo. They watched in amusement as toddler and dog scrutinized one another. DJ waved.

"Hi."

Hugo answered with a soft bark, offering out his paw and DJ's toothless smile grew wider as the little boy placed his small hand on the larger paw. DJ plopped down on his butt beside the large puppy and started talking. Hugo lowered himself down on his stomach, apparently listening to the boy. DJ wasn't quite making sense, it seemed to be nothing much more than nonsensical toddler babble, but the way Hugo was paying attention, one could have guessed DJ was expunging the secrets of the universe to the puppy.

"Well, I'm starving!" Trey piped up. He turned to his sister-in-law, slinging an arm around her neck. "I know you have food, Q-Tip!"

Quinn rolled her eyes good-humoredly and pointed back to the kitchen counter. "If you grill the chicken and Rachel's vegan-friendly alternative, you can add it to the baked pasta in the oven."

Trey's shoulders slumped and he pouted. "Yeesh, make a man work for the meal, why dontcha?" Dutifully, he made his way to the kitchen, dodging the kids and dogs making their way out to the backyard, Hayley tugging Rachel along with them.

Left alone, Quinn turned her attention to Frannie, leveling her elder sister with a heady glare. Quinn's eyes flicked pointedly in the direction Rachel disappeared. "I _really_ hate you right now."

Frannie merely laughed.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel had heard stories of the Fabray family from Quinn, and she wasn't quite sure what to expect. This was quite the surprise, especially the dynamic between Frannie and Quinn. In terms of age, the pair was quite distanced in years, seven to be exact, but it was obvious they were close. They seemed to share the affectionate, slightly antagonistic relationship that Rachel often imagined was the case with siblings, and that relationship was on full display right in front of her.

At the moment, Frannie was clearly goading her little sister, a smirk playing on her lips and a twinkle in her eye. Rachel wasn't quite sure what was being said, but it was very obvious whatever it was definitely irked the younger blonde. For her part, Quinn was clearly rising to the bait as she stood with her fists planted on her hips and a pout highlighted on her expression as she shot back a response.

Rachel watched as Quinn screeched, diving forward to tackle her big sister onto the grass. The pair tussled, rolling around on the ground, shrieks and growls mingling with the sizzle of Quinn's grill. Quinn's smirk was smug as she braced her hands on Frannie's shoulders and bounced her butt on Frannie's upper back, squishing her sister further into the grass. Well, that was charming…

Rachel had to admit that upon meeting Quinn's older sister, she was immediately a bit intimidated. Frannie Fabray could have easily stepped out from the pages of _Vogue_ or _Vanity Fair _in all of her blonde, glamorous glory. Beauty was definitely a Fabray family trait. Seeing them stand together, Rachel noticed they shared the same flowing blonde hair (although Quinn's was obviously from a more artificial source), and their facial structures were similar with the same delicate curve on the jawline, same slope in the cheekbone, and same bow-shaped mouth. She certainly could see the familial resemblance when the two Fabray girls smiled. When Quinn smiled, the real emotion wasn't in the curve of the lips, it was in the eyes, and Frannie's, although a light shade of blue, held the same amount of expressiveness.

Rachel was a little taken aback when introduced to Trey, however. Dr. Trey Prescott was not someone she would have expected to find married to such an elegant, poised figure such as Frannie. He was tall and lanky, all long arms and limbs, just about even with her father if she estimated correctly. He was a handsome guy, his olive complexion and dark hair contrasting nicely with his navy blue eyes. As she stood with him, conversing casually while he took it upon himself to take the reins on finishing the dinner Quinn started to cook, she found he was chill, mellow, and extremely laid back. But Rachel noticed he had his excitable moments, particularly when he and Quinn launched into a discussion about the latest incarnation of the BSG series…whatever that meant. She would never have guessed Trey was heir apparent to a multi-billion dollar industry. He was a lot like Chris Keller in a way, his image not really fitting his persona. Honestly, Trey looked like he would fit in more with the Beat poets of San Francisco. Still, there was a ruffled charm about Trey Prescott, the scruffy academic to Frannie's pristine corporate suit, and it made the couple that much more endearing.

Trey whistled a happy tune as he flipped the chicken over on the grill, careful to keep it away from the alternatives for both himself and Rachel on the other side. He didn't really seem to be paying attention to the antics of his wife and sister-in-law as he lifted a drumstick to check the other side. Absently, he scratched at his beard, craning his head to keep an eye on the kids and dogs. Finding nothing out of place, he turned his attention back to the food, taking a sip of wine.

Rachel cocked her head as she watched as Frannie managed to maneuver out from under Quinn and smother the younger blonde in a headlock. "Are they always like this?" she asked idly.

Trey glanced up as he transferred the chicken over to a plate to be added to the pasta Quinn had prepared. "Huh?"

Rachel gestured with her chin over to where Frannie and Quinn were wrestling in the grass. Quinn had somehow wriggled herself out of the headlock and was trying to roll back to squish Frannie into the grass, trying to shake off the vice grip Frannie's arms and legs had wrapped around her torso.

"Yep," he drawled, popping the 'p' lazily, scratching at his beard. Even the kids were oblivious to the battle royale between their mother and aunt, preferring to play with the dogs instead.

"It's cute," Rachel admitted.

Trey chuckled. "Yeah." He winced as Quinn craned her head down to bite at Frannie's forearm, prompting a squeal from the elder Fabray. He raised his voice to call out to the pair. "Hey! No biting, you two!" Trey lofted the tongs in his hand, waving them menacingly. "Don't make me come over there!"

The warning message seemed to be readily dismissed as both blondes spared the barest moment to shoot him a dirty look before returning to their battle.

Trey shook his head with another indulgent chuckle. "Quinn doesn't give her heart to many people," he divulged. "But when she does, she gives all of it with no reservations. Frannie's like that too to a lesser extent. Their father did some work on them. It took me awhile to chisel through that shield." He shot a sideways look to the smaller woman beside him. "You're lucky, you know. You're one of the few to get in this deep."

Rachel nodded slowly. "I'm starting to see that." She looked to Trey. "Why is that?"

Trey shrugged. "Not really my story to tell." He saw the minute slump of Rachel's shoulders and felt compelled to reassure the other woman. "But if it makes you feel any better, you're gone deeper than anyone who isn't family. She really likes you, I can tell."

"I really like her," Rachel offered back. "There's always been something about her. She's so…mesmerizing."

Trey quirked a wry smirk. "That she is," he agreed. "The first time I met her, she was so guarded, so protective of her sister, and so wary of me. But at the same time, I wanted to know her, to gain her approval." He shot a sideways glance to his companion. "Want some advice?" He gestured to himself with the tongs, an indulgent smile curving his handsome features. "You know, from someone who's survived the process?"

Rachel nodded, trying and failing not to seem to eager. "Please?"

"Frannie is the most important person in Quinn's life and vice-versa." He waved to the battling sisters, both of whom seemed unwilling to let up. "Despite all of that, they'll be the first one to jump into each other's corner. If you don't get Frannie's blessing, forget it. No matter how Quinn may feel about you, Frannie's approval is going to be the tipping point."

"So how did you do it?" Rachel asked.

"It wasn't an easy get," Trey admitted. "I'm pretty sure Quinn peeled back every finite layer of my personality before she gave her blessing, but after she gave it, I really got to see the awesome person she was." Trey shrugged. "I just didn't give her any bullshit. I didn't try to pander to her or cater to her. I let her see me without any frills, just me."

Rachel nodded, taking his advice to heart.

Trey grinned. "Of course, it seems you've made pretty good headway on your own…"

He winked at Rachel, patting a hand on her shoulder. Gathering up the meat and the pasta, he turned his head to the still wrestling sisters.

"Yo!" He called out to the two blondes. "Stop screwing around and come eat!"

The pair clambered to their feet, not before dispensing their final shoves. They made their way to the kitchen to wash up, Frannie jostling her sister out of the way to reach the sink first. Washing her hands and returning to the back, she plopped down at the table, a sense of triumph in her posture.

Quinn trailed behind her and appeared behind her sister to wipe her damp hands on Frannie's shirt, face, and hair. The elder blonde recoiled back, swatting at her sister. "Ew, Quinn!"

Quinn cackled as she darted away, grinning triumphantly as she rounded the table to plop down beside Rachel.

The atmosphere around the table was fun and festive as the two groups chatted amongst themselves, melding nicely together, the topics ranging from Quinn and Rachel's current film to Trey's work in anthropology. Quinn smiled at the sight before her. She liked the look of Rachel fitting in as she dining with the Prescott-Fabray family, how effortlessly the tiny starlet adapted to the dynamic.

Quinn returned her attention to the conversation and forked some pasta into her mouth, washing it down with wine. She looked to Frannie. "So what are you doing here?"

"We took a trip to visit Mom and Liam and figured we'd head down here for a couple of days at Disneyland." Frannie explained. She smirked, batting her eyelashes. "You were just an afterthought."

Quinn deadpanned, completely nonplussed. "Gosh, I feel so loved."

"_I_ love you, Aunt Quinn!" Hayley piped up, adding her two cents.

Quinn chuckled, hugging the girl to her side. "Aw, thanks, Hayles."

Rachel laughed at the byplay between the three blondes. She turned her head in confusion as she felt a pressure on her knee. Looking down, she saw DJ had braced a hand on her leg to hoist himself onto the seat beside her.

"Hi, DJ."

The little boy blushed but scooted closer. "Hi."

Rachel couldn't help but melt a little at the big blue eyes twinkling at her from the round face. "I like your shoes."

DJ looked down to where his feet dangled over the chair, clicking the sides of the little black Vans slip-ons together. "Thanks."

Rachel smiled as he seemed to beam at the compliment. "Your shirt is cool, too. What does the B stand for?"

It was apparently the right question because DJ brightened even more, if that was even possible. He pointed to the scarlet and white B on the navy blue background. "Boston! Red Sox!"

Rachel refrained from wrinkling her nose against the hated, bitter rival of her beloved Yankees. Still, DJ's enthusiasm couldn't be denied.

"You like baseball?"

DJ threw his arms in the air with excitement. "Yeah!"

The mind of a child was apparently very decisive, and Rachel knew that DJ's mind was made up when it came to her. Still, it warmed her heart when he clambered into her lap and laid his head on her chest with a beaming smile.

Quinn watched the two, a pensive look on her face when a tug on her hand brought her attention back to her little niece.

"Aunt Quinn, can we go with you to your movie set?"

In unison, Rachel and Quinn's eyes widened, and Quinn began a rambling, stuttering excuse in the negative. Hayley's brow furrowed as she tried to understand the words that fell from her Aunt Quinn's mouth.

"Soooo…" Hayley cocked her head. "Was that a yes or no?"

Rachel bit her lip, trying not to laugh as Quinn's face grew redder and redder. She knew the exact reason why Quinn wouldn't want her young, impressionable niece and nephew to not accompany her to the set: she and Quinn were going to spend a majority of the time naked and in a bed.

She _could_ help Quinn and throw the blonde a floaty for salvation from the shark-infested waters of childhood innocence, but she didn't. Quinn wasn't normally one to flounder. This was actually kind of funny.

"Rach? You've got anything to contribute?"

"Nope."

Quinn scowled. "Just for that, I'm eating something dipped in brine before our scene."

Rachel snickered, blowing Quinn a cheeky kiss.

Quinn looked down at her niece. "Sorry, Hales, but Rachel and I are gonna do some really grown-up things that aren't really for kids to watch."

Hayley's brow furrowed. "Can I actually watch the movie?"

Quinn bit her lip, appealing to Frannie for that final decision. The elder blonde shook her head.

"Sorry, Hales, this is a grown-up movie."

Hayley's face fell. "Aw, nuts. Man, why do grown-ups get all the cool stuff?"

Quinn chuckled, ruffling Hayley's blonde curls. "It's okay, Hales, being a grown-up isn't all that it's cracked up to be, trust me."

"Do you think you can do a kid movie next time, Aunt Quinn?" Hayley asked. "Maybe a superhero one? That would be so cool! Or a princess one? You'd be soooooo pretty!"

"We'll see, kiddo," Quinn answered with a grin. "I can't really control that."

Hayley sighed happily, throwing her arms out and flopping back dramatically into Quinn's lap. "Man, Aunt Quinn, you've got the coolest job _in the world_."

Quinn could only laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to Hayley's forehead. Well, she couldn't very well argue with that assertion.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Bellies full of food, and the group sitting around the table chatting as dinner wound down, Frannie turned to her sister and husband. "Quinn, Trey? You want to watch the kids for a bit? I believe Rachel and I need to talk."

Rachel stiffened, schooling her features carefully as to not betray the absolute fear coursing through her veins.

Quinn narrowed her gaze, but stood, Hayley's hand ensconced in hers. "Be nice."

Frannie grinned, handing DJ over to Trey. "I'm always nice, Quinnie."

Rachel didn't hear Quinn's mumbled response, but she was more than certain it was something a bit disparaging towards the elder Fabray's assertion.

Rachel had to admit, she was a bit intimidated. Frannie had a way of completely monopolizing her attention, just like Quinn did. The elder Fabray even had the eyebrow quirk as well. Something compelled her to sit up a bit straighter, and she eyed Frannie a bit warily. She had a stark realization what her own significant others had endured in facing down Santana at her most protective.

"Quinn really likes you," Frannie began without much preamble. "I haven't seen her this open with another person in such a long time. Not since…"

"Not since she was Lucy?" Rachel offered hesitantly.

Whatever Frannie had planned to say was lost as she recoiled in surprise. "You know about Lucy?"

Rachel nodded. "It has recently come to my attention that Lucy and I crossed paths when we were younger."

Frannie's brows drew together. "You didn't bully her or anything, did you?"

Rachel balked at that. "No, of course not! I abhor such practices. Besides, I am the product of two homosexual males and a surrogate mother in a small, highly conservative town. More likely than not I would have been in Lucy's position rather than the alternative, I would imagine. The only reason that wasn't the case at McKinley was because of my three best friends."

Frannie digested that with a wry smile. "Yeah, I figure you would, too." She eyed Rachel with a critical gaze. "Alright then, please tell me this isn't some sort of ruse to ride Quinn's coattails to stardom."

"No," Rachel answered honestly and firmly. "I'm secure enough in my own talent to know that I do not require Quinn's to supplement my burgeoning celebrity."

Frannie cocked an eyebrow at the rather brash statement. Rachel shrugged unapologetically, continuing her explanation.

"To be frank, this foray into film was more a matter of circumstance rather than me actually pursuing a role. My chosen medium of performing has always been musical theatre, and I am considered to be a hot commodity in that particular discipline," Rachel divulged, her statement not as much arrogance as it was simple fact. "The Tony I won for my role of Millie was no fluke, and should this movie career not offer more opportunity, I am confident that I will find another on Broadway."

Frannie's gaze narrowed. "You're very confident, aren't you?"

"Naturally," Rachel responded. "This business, in all of its mediums, is not one for the faint of heart. One has to have a thick skin. I've gotten to where I am through work and a little bit of luck. I hope this doesn't sound callous or indifferent, but I don't need Quinn to further my career."

"And yet you're pursuing a relationship with my sister," Frannie remarked shrewdly. "The label your relationship would force upon your name could potentially be a career killer. Why are you risking that?"

Rachel quirked a wry smile. It was a fair question, one she had agonized over herself. Still, Rachel Berry was a romantic at heart; she firmly believed that love would prevail. "Because she's worth it. And I have enough confidence in my talent to weather whatever comes."

"A bit idealistic, isn't it?"

"Perhaps," Rachel shrugged. "But isn't love a bit idealistic in itself? If there was one thing I learned from my fathers, it was to never be afraid of love. They had a lot to fear in Lima, yet they braved it all for each other. It would be ignoble of me to not do the same."

Frannie studied Rachel for a long moment. She had the displeasure of meeting the very few, _very_ minute number of the women Quinn deemed worthy enough to meet the family. In every single one of those women, Frannie sensed an underlying motive. They were always after something of Quinn's, whether it was her money, or fame, or even something as simple as having the name of Quinn Lucas attached to theirs, even if it was only for a short while. She wasn't quite sure where this relationship with Rachel was going, but even Frannie could admit her sister had found quite a complement for herself, one that Frannie believed really didn't have an ulterior motivation.

A timid voice broke through her reverie. "May I ask you a question?"

Frannie nodded. "Sure."

"Do you do this to all of Quinn's romantic interests?" Rachel fiddled nervously with her hands. "Because I must admit, it's quite effective in deterring any sort of reprehensible behavior on my part."

Frannie laughed. She eyed the other woman, treating her to a wink. "Rachel, not a lot of women make it far enough that Quinn deems them worthy enough for me to meet them. Consider yourself lucky."

"I'm beginning to see that," Rachel admitted softly.

"You're okay, Rachel Berry," Frannie declared. "If _I'm_ meeting you, that means something. And since my children admittedly adore you, I imagine you can't be all that bad."

Rachel perked up, shooting out a wide, beaming smile. Frannie could feel herself melt a bit. In that moment, she got where Quinn was coming from. That smile was mesmerizing, and idly, Frannie wondered if she could say something else to make that smile appear again. Frannie chuckled to herself. Picky or not, she couldn't deny her baby sister had good taste.

xxx-xxx-xxx

"Well, we should get going. We have an early flight tomorrow, don't we guys?"

Quinn glanced up as Frannie's voice cut through the giggles and shrieks of her niece and nephew. She approached Rachel, trying her hardest not to seem overly anxious.

"Did you survive?"

"I should imagine so." Rachel laughed, leaning up to kiss Quinn on the cheek. "Now I know how people feel facing down Santana. That was a bit scary."

Quinn winced, ruffling her hair. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Rachel laid her head on Quinn's chest. "I'm glad you have someone to look after you. You can't be the strong one all the time."

Quinn chuckled. "Stop stealing lines from the movie…"

Rachel laughed, poking her teasingly in the chest. They followed the Prescott brood out to the driveway and exchanged fond goodbyes. Quinn couldn't help but smile as Frannie drew Rachel into a hug, and Trey swooped the much smaller woman into his arms for an exuberant twirl. Quinn bestowed love on her niece and nephew, ruffling Hayley's hair. As she pressed a kiss to DJ's cheek, he grinned and squirmed in her arms, wanting to be let down.

As soon as his tiny little feet hit the pavement, DJ astonished everyone by toddling over to Rachel and tugging on her hand. When she turned her attention to him, he lifted his arms, the universal sign for 'Up, please?' Stooping down, Rachel obliged and settled him on her hip.

"Bye, bye," he said, leaning in to press a kiss to Rachel's cheek.

"Bye, bye, DJ," Rachel murmured, poking him gently on the nose. He giggled and swatted at her finger. Quinn smirked to herself. It seemed she wasn't the only one of her family wholly susceptible to the bubbly charm of Rachel Berry.

Quinn slipped an arm around Rachel's waist as they watched as the rental car backed down the driveway, waving as it sped down the road towards the freeway.

"They liked you," Quinn remarked.

Rachel's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah," Quinn affirmed. "You were great with the kids. I think that tipped the scales more than anything."

"I've always found the dynamics of young children and infants interesting," Rachel divulged. "I was an only child, and I never really had any interaction with young children. My cousins, Aunt Loretta's children, are in high school so they're not that much younger than I am. I wasn't sure how proficient I would be when it came to children significant younger than me."

Quinn chuckled. "Well, you were great." She tightened her grip around Rachel's waist, squeezing fondly.

Rachel laughed, but she noticed as Quinn looked down the driveway in the direction Frannie and company disappeared towards, a wistful sheen flickered on Quinn's face before it dissolved to her normal impassive disposition. She smiled down at Rachel, holding out her hand.

"C'mon, let's head back inside."

"Okay," Rachel murmured, obligingly allowing herself to be tugged back into the house. Still, she filed that expression away for future deliberation. Something niggled at the cusp of her consciousness. That expression was significant. She was sure of it.

xxx-xxx-xxx

As the car service took her back to the hotel, Rachel continued her musings as she thought back to the interactions she had witnessed that afternoon. There was something about Quinn, she decided. It was like she was missing something very, very important to fully understand the enticing enigma wrapped up in such the broodingly gorgeous package. She entered into the suite and saw Santana on the couch with Brittany on the floor playing with Reno.

"Hey, San."

"Tiny." Santana glanced up from the television, reaching out as Hugo bounded up to her to give the puppy love. Santana cocked a teasing eyebrow, eyes raking up and down Rachel's body. "You don't have the healthy glow of a lady given some sweet lady lovin'," she remarked.

Rachel glared, raising a hand and displaying a pinched thumb and forefinger with the barest amount of space separating the two digits. "This close. Then her sister came by."

Santana wiggled her eyebrows. "Wanky."

"Ew," Rachel retorted. "She brought her husband and kids along."

Santana nodded sagely. "Ah, buzzkill."

"Yeah," Rachel answered. She eased down on the couch, leaning back against the arm. She looked to Santana. "I've got a question for you."

"Sure." Santana shifted, turning to face Rachel fully. "Shoot."

"Do you ever feel like you…" Rachel struggled to express everything sufficiently, "I don't know…like you don't know everything about her? Like she's holding back something really important."

Santana shrugged. "Yeah. But she's always been a mystery, you know? Aside from you, I don't think anyone really knows all that much about her."

Rachel frowned, looking down at her hands. She worried her lip before looking up at Santana through her lashes. The question that arose was softly whispered, as though Rachel was scared of voicing the thought and the answer that would subsequently follow.

"Do you think it's worth it?" Rachel asked. "Do you think that I should risk my heart for someone who might not be giving me everything of her?"

It was a legitimate question, Santana admitted. Still, she knew where Quinn was coming from. People like Rachel and Brittany wore their hearts on their sleeves. People like her and Quinn kept everything close to the chest. You just never knew who could use it against you.

"Okay, I dig Quinn, you know that," Santana began with that prelude, "Melt away the Ice Queen, and you've got a pretty cool chick." Santana held up a finger in warning. "But I'm gonna play devil's advocate because 1) It's my job and 2) I'm keeping you on your toes."

Rachel bobbed her head in a hesitant nod. "Okay…"

"Have you really thought this through?"

"In what way?"

"Rach, baby girl, I _know_ you. I've known you for over a decade, and I know exactly how you get when you've got your beady little eyes set on someone you've got a lady boner for."

Rachel wrinkled her nose at the rather crass vernacular. "I feel like I'm gonna be offended by what's going to come out of your mouth next."

"Look, history is pretty telling, Tiny," Santana continued, allowing herself a little smirk at Rachel's words. "You tend to lose your head when it comes to pursuing a romantic interest."

"That's…" Rachel began to deny that assertion, only to concede that she couldn't. "Okay, yes, that's true."

"You have to think about your career," Santana also reasoned. "Like it or not, there is a bit of a stigma attached to gay actors. Are you ready to carry that burden?"

"How can you say that?" Rachel demanded. "Especially when you know what my fathers have went through."

Santana shrugged. "Hey, again, just playing devil's advocate. Besides, what kind of manager would I be if I just let you go charging in, Fist of Advocacy raised with nothing but romantic notions of social justice and equality backing you?"

"Thanks, San, but I do promise you I'm going into this eyes wide open." She cocked an eyebrow. "But, c'mon, you can't tell me you forget about reason when Brittany does something that makes you fall even harder."

Santana laughed, casting a sidelong glance over to Brittany where she was lying on the ground beside Reno. A pair of earbuds dangled from her ears as she grasped an iPod in her other hand. Something seemed to be holding Reno's attention as the feline batted the air before her, rolling from her back to her side. Brittany was watching intensely, somehow making the erratic, random movements into a fluid, graceful dance to whatever beat was in her head.

"No, Rach, I can't. _That_ I do get." Santana sighed. "And for the record, yeah, I do think there's something about Quinn that she's hiding." Santana shrugged. "But maybe she's just waiting for you to ask the right question. I guess it's up to you to find out if she's worth the digging."

Rachel digested that for a long moment. She blew out a deep breath, her head lolling back against the couch cushions. The myriad of thoughts induced from their conversation swirled through her mind. All of them revolved around one central notion: Relationships were complicated…

xxx-xxx-xxx

The final scene shot for _Duty and Honor_ was, fittingly, a love scene. As Rachel and Quinn lay in the bed, only thin sheets protecting their modesty from the crew gathered around ready to film the finishing scene.

As Quinn turned her back, shrugging off the robe before she slid beneath the covers, Rachel was finally able to clearly see the tattoo adorning Quinn's right shoulder. It was of a baby, sleeping on its side, its head of curly, light brown hair resting comfortably on folded arms, its angel wings blanketing the slumbering body. Three letters curved towards the baby, offset against the rest of the image. "B.H.R.", it read. That was curious, Rachel noted. She had a feeling Quinn never did anything with a frivolous intent, and with something as lasting as a tattoo, she wondered the meaning behind the ink.

"Everyone ready?" Chris's voice cut into her thoughts. "Places, please. Let's take this one from the top!"

Rachel filed that new piece of information in the back of her mind for later perusal as she took her mark. It was just another layer of mystery behind who Quinn Lucas was.

* * *

><p><em>"Tell me something."<em>

_ Sloane chuckled at the random demand, running her fingers through the hair splayed over her chest. "Like what?"_

_ Mia shrugged, craning her head up so she could look into beautiful, hazel spheres. "I don't know. Anything. Do you want to be a Marine all your life? Do you want to stay in Greensborough?"_

_ Sloane thought about it for a minute, bringing her free hand up to cradle her head as she looked up into the ceiling. "I want to go to New York."_

_ Mia rose up, propping her head up on her hand as she smiled down at Sloane. "Really? Why New York?"_

_Sloane shrugged. "Fighting in this war…sometimes it's ambiguous. You don't know a lot of things. Sometimes, you don't know what winning it means, sometimes you don't know what you're fighting for…A lot of times, you don't know what you're doing there." She readjusted her head on the pillow, frowning thoughtfully. "I mean, ultimately, all of that doesn't matter. You respect orders; it's what you sign up for." Sloane's eyes clouded over, lost in her thoughts. "I think going there, seeing Ground Zero, seeing where it all started, it will remind me."_

_ "So it'll be like a pilgrimage."_

_ Sloane cocked an eyebrow. "I don't know about that. I mean, I'm not trying to find God or anything." _

_Mia laughed, shaking her head. "A pilgrimage isn't always about religion," she explained. "I mean, in most cases it is, but by definition, it's a journey of moral or spiritual significance. For you, it's more of a spiritual nature, a journey of the existential kind." She reached out, a finger tracing the contours of Sloane's face, smoothing down the worry lines._

"_I think it'll be good for you. Maybe a sort of, I don't know, spiritual cleansing." _

_Sloane snorted. "I don't know about that. That war is going to stay with me for a long time. I have the physical scars, I have the emotional scars. They faded, but they aren't going to go away." She looked to Mia, eyes gravely serious. "Are you sure you're willing to deal with all that?"_

_Mia smiled softly. "Well, lucky for you, I dig scars."_

_ Sloane growled low in her throat, flipping them over. She hovered over the smaller woman, bracing her arms on either side of Mia's head. Sloane smirked as Mia wrapped her legs around the Marine's hips. Sloane leaned down. Her breath whooshed from her lungs as Mia flipped them again, straddling Sloane's stomach, hands supported on Sloane's chest. _

_The blonde smirked lazily as she took in the view from below. The tousled hair streaming down her shoulders, those big doe eyes hooded with desire and arousal. She palmed the hips just in her reach, kneading softly. Her tender words belied the lust-charged atmosphere between them._

"_Yeah, lucky for me."_

* * *

><p>"CUT!"<p>

As the scene broke down, Quinn and Rachel stepping into t-shirts and sweatpants, Chris stood from his chair, arms spread addressing everyone on set and the other actors who had meandered over to the outskirts. "Ladies and gentlemen, cast and crew of _Duty and Honor_, it is my sincere privilege and honor to say, 'That's a wrap!'"

Cheers roared all around as the cast and crew exchanged hugs and kisses. Anson bum-rushed the two stars from the side, lifting Rachel up and over his shoulder and snaking through the gathered people. As she giggled, bouncing with every bob and weave, a fleeting feeling flickered through her mind. The film might be done, but she had a feeling that this was just beginning.

xxx-xxx-xxx

As the movie wrapped with the usual fanfare, the cast and crew celebrated with a wrap party, and the real work began. Post-production had the cast and crew all over Hollywood, making as many appearances as they could before the talk show circuit and the like began. Rachel and Quinn found themselves at every movie premiere they could attend, the public appearances providing visibility to the already well-hyped film. Quinn, already recognizable, found herself fielding questions about her transition to the big screen, but Rachel found herself thrust once again into the spotlight as curiosity fueled the visibility of the relatively unknown actress playing opposite Quinn Lucas.

It was a rare day-off for the two stars, and Rachel took advantage of the time off to relax on the couch, surrounded by Brittany, Santana, and the pets. Santana had commandeered the remote and was idly flipping through the channels for something worthwhile to watch.

"Hey, check it out." Brittany called, gesturing to the screen as Santana stopped at one of the Hollywood gossip stations. "It's a spot on Rachel."

Sure enough, the studio's perfectly coiffed host stood behind a desk, a picture highlighting a beaming Rachel in the background. She shot out a dazzling white smile before shuffling the papers in front of her.

* * *

><p><em>"Good evening, everyone, I'm Nina Antolin. The latest relationship gossip comes from Broadway starlet Rachel Berry, about to hit the big screen as Mia St. Claire in Christian Keller's highly anticipated and highly controversial new film with Quinn Lucas. Miss Berry was recently spotted in her hometown of Lima, Ohio to visit her father Miles Berry, a police officer shot during the line of duty. However, during this photo surfaced of Miss Berry in a rather compromising position. The man, identified as Finn Hudson, was Rachel's high school sweetheart for a little over a year. Could it be love rekindling? Michelle Morris has the scoop for this edition of "Hollywood Hookup".<em>

_ The host looked to the side where an equally pretty, equally coiffed blonde shared the end of the table with her. Pictures of Rachel kissing Finn flashed in the background, replacing the singular photo. _

_ "Thanks, Nina. When these photos surfaced of Rachel Berry caught in a steamy liplock with a then-unidentified man, rumors started. Berry, recently removed from a relationship with Broadway hunk Brady Shaw. Her people issued this statement concerning the rumored romance:_

'**At this time, Rachel Berry is not pursuing any romantic interests. She returned to Lima with the intention of providing her father support and comfort in the midst of his injuries. Miss Berry has not had any contact with Finn Hudson since high school, and she accepted his dinner invitation with solely platonic purposes. Any actions on Mr. Hudson's part were entirely his own and unwarranted by Miss Berry. These were the desperate actions of a man unsatisfied with his current life, believing a romantic attachment to Miss Berry would further his own self-interest.'**

_We caught up with the Broadway diva herself on the red carpet as she accompanied co-star Quinn Lucas to the premiere of the new Everett Michaels movie, and she had some very interesting things to say about the rumors of her proposed new fling."_

* * *

><p>"Damn, that dress looks great on you," Santana commented as Rachel approached the red carpet reporter. "Thank goodness for Kurt and his impeccable sense for lady fashion. You were turning heads left and right."<p>

"Totally hot," Brittany chimed in.

* * *

><p>The camera zoomed in on Rachel, her delighted smile lighting up the screen. Just behind her, Quinn could be seen in a sharply-tailored three-piece tuxedo and heels, fielding her own questions from another reporter.<p>

A voice floated in from off-camera. "So we've been hearing some interesting rumors about you trip back to your hometown. Can you tell us what's the deal with you and your ex-boyfriend, Finn Hudson?"

Rachel nodded somberly, regret clear in her expression. "It was a sticky situation. I came back to Lima to be with my father, and I accepted Finn's dinner invitation with the understanding that it was completely platonic. It's no secret that my previous relationship ended badly, and I certainly wasn't looking to jump in with another one. I don't understand how he could have possibly thought otherwise; we broke up my junior year and really haven't spoken since."

"So all this rumbling about how you've been secretly in contact with Finn Hudson is false?"

"Oh, completely. The first time I had seen him in years was when Quinn and I visited McKinley while we waited for my father to regain consciousness. The breakup between Finn and I in high school was very rough. He cheated on me, and I made it very clear that I wanted nothing to do with him. We eventually regained a tentative friendship, but any possible considerations I would have made to rekindle our relationship were extinguished when he very publically outed one of my friends in a crowded hallway.

"You sound very passionate about that instance."

"I am," Rachel asserted, a fire now burning in her eyes. "My fathers are gay, my two closest friends are gay. I understand how much of a personal process it is to come out, and it's a process that some people need to do at their own speed and at their own time. To have that choice and that process made for them is, frankly, unacceptable to me."

"So we know that you are not in a romantic relationship with Finn Hudson…but that doesn't preclude the possibility of a romantic relationship with anyone else." The question was posed with a teasing tone, and Rachel giggled. "Any comment on that?"

Rachel shook her head. "I've learned my lesson well when it comes to relationships in the public eye. I will say that I'm very happy right now." Rachel winked at the camera. "But who knows? Perhaps I've found something I didn't know I was looking for? Perhaps a bit closer to my current location? Perhaps a bit…scandalous in nature?" She shrugged, a twinkle in her eyes. "You'll have to find out for yourselves…"

_"Well, you heard it, straight from Rachel Berry, herself. A romance with former flame, Finn Hudson, may not be in the cards, but there was a hint that there may be a new romance in the books." Michelle Morris looked back to the host. "A fling with co-star Anson Blake, perhaps?"_

_ Nina Antolin shrugged demonstratively. "Who knows? But with the buzz that's been surrounding Miss Berry and her role in Chris Keller's Duty and Honor will certainly keep her in the spotlight."_

* * *

><p>"Huh," Rachel drawled sheepishly as the segment ended. "Now that I hear that…that sounds a lot more…uh, <em>revealing<em> than I wanted it to sound…"

Santana let out a bark of laughter. "Oh man, Quinn's gonna be _so_ pissed…"

"Totally," Brittany added.

xxx-xxx-xxx

* * *

><p><em>"But who knows? Perhaps I've found something I didn't know I was looking for? Perhaps a bit closer to my current location? Perhaps a bit…scandalous in nature? You'll have to find out for yourselves…"<em>

* * *

><p>A little bit away, her television on the same channel, one Quinn Lucas stopped in her tracks as she crossed in front of her television on her way to her seat on the couch. Slowly, she rotated to face the TV, eyes wide in disbelief. Her jaw dropped as she caught Rachel's interview, the coy response so tantalizingly vague to the general public but so very, very clear to her. Dropping down hard on the couch cushions, her mouth flapped soundlessly, the words running through her mind, but not expelled through her lips. She whirled to the only other person in the room. Charlie cocked his head in bemused amusement at the finger thrust adamantly at the screen.<p>

"What the flying…where the hell was I?"

Quinn slumped back into the cushions, a hand ruffling the hair atop her head. She had no idea what to think. Part of her was absolutely incensed. When it came to commenting about her personal life, Quinn's approach was very simple and succinct: DON'T. With as high-profile as she was, Quinn found that keeping everything so close to the chest was better for her peace of mind. The press could push all they want about what happened in her life away from the cameras, but she never obliged their questions. Her personal privacy was of the utmost concern, and she very rarely, if ever, commented on it. Rachel, apparently, did not share in that mindset with how freely she had just divulged information – as vague and coy as it may have been. The other part of her was amused. Rachel had managed to say everything…and yet nothing at the same time. The woman was a master, working the interview effortlessly and with the utmost grace, a publicist's dream. However, with how freely Rachel gave information, Quinn could see the challenge in keeping the little diva in check.

Quinn turned a rueful glance to her faithful canine companion. "I'm in over my head with her, aren't I? This is not going to be easy, is it?"

Charlie merely sighed, covering his face with his paw and shaking his head.

_Humans_…

xxx-xxx-xxx

"She's going to be the death of me!" Quinn growled as she talked with Puck over her Xbox headset. He was the only one besides Declan who has a direct link to her, and she had to admit that it was nice to talk to someone who was a bit removed from all the drama. On the screen, her USC Trojans played against Puck's Texas Longhorns in the latest edition of NCAA Football. They tended to stay away from Madden for the fact that they were never able to agree on which teams they would play as – although Puck would sometimes concede the Chargers in favor of the Bengals, but he did take offense if his on-screen character didn't dominate on defense like he normally would in an actual game.

Puck laughed, the result of both her statement and the fact he just pulverized Quinn's secondary for a big gain. "I feel you, bro," he sympathized. "She's fucking relentless."

"Was she like that when you guys were dating?"

"Worse," Puck huffed. "I was at a severe disadvantage because let's face it, dude, I was just like any other teenage guy. I thought with my dick. She had me by the penis, following her around like a puppy. Not even a badass Rottie like Hugo, but a fucking…Pomeranian or something."

Quinn laughed. "So she played you. You're not the first guy to be thinking with the wrong head, Puckerman."

"Well, yeah, but it's not just that. I wouldn't be mad at that because, let's face it, Rachel's hot. _No one_ would be mad at a pint-sized hottie all up in their junk." Puck growled as his quarterback overthrew the intended receiver. "It's the way she does it. It's fucking all sneaky-like. You know?"

"No," Quinn deadpanned. "I really don't."

"It's like you don't consciously know you're doing it," Puck explained. "And then once it's over, you realize exactly what happened, and you're stuck swearing at Little Puck…or whatever…because he was the bastard that got you into this mess. One Halloween, she found us couple's costumes. I was going to be something badass like the Terminator or something equally awesome, but she made me Peter Pan to her freaking Wendy. I was in _tights_, Q. That's like negative a billion on the badass scale."

Quinn chuckled, fist-pumping as her defense forced Puck's punt team out on the field. "Oh yeah, totally been there."

"It was their crazy, evil mastermind of a cheerleading coach's fault," Puck asserted. "She mandated that they wore their uniforms every day regardless of the season. That's just plain torture to watch those legs and that ass in a fucking short-ass cheerleading skirt."

"And I'm guess she used that to her advantage as much as she could?"

"Damn right she did," Puck declared, groaning as a screen pass allowed Quinn's offense to slip between his blitz. "We'd be talking and as she'd leave, she would always twirl. _Twirl_, Q, _tw-ir-l_. Just because she knew I caught a glimpse of her spanks…Goddamn she-devil. No man…or woman," Puck amended in deference to Quinn's preferences, "is able to resist Rachel when she gets it in her head that you're what she wants."

Quinn sighed. She had learned her lesson about getting too caught up in a relationship with Lauren. She wasn't too keen on finding herself in a similar situation. "Dammit, Puck," she lamented. "Tell me it's worth it."

"You know it is, Q," Puck answered softly. She saw him pause the game on his end. "Look, real up? One awesome lady killer bro to another?"

"I'm not a lady killer," Quinn was quick to defend.

"The fuck you're not," Puck shot back. "We pigskin heads gossip just as bad as you Hollywood types. Shit gets around. I know a few of your dirty little secrets."

"How?"

"How do you think?" Puck answered.

"Rich, lazy trophy wives who have nothing better to do than gossip," Quinn deduced. She sighed. "That's…disturbing."

"Damn right." Puck scoffed. "I won't tell you how many times a few of those ladies have hit on me. In my younger, dumber days, I would have been all over that. I know better though. I'm not messing with that."

Quinn chuckled. "Yeah, ethics and morals and all that."

"Well, duh, but it's also self-preservation," Puck commented. "Heath Graham's wife put moves on the Puckster. I ran away from that faster than a ballcarrier books it away from me. I _definitely_ am not messing with that."

"Well, yeah, because Heath Graham is kind of a beast," Quinn drawled, thinking about the six-foot, seven-inch, two hundred seventy five-pound defensive end. And you're kind of considered tiny in NFL standards."

"That too," Puck conceded.

"He's a definitely not someone you want to piss off," Quinn agreed.

"Glad he's on my team," Puck huffed. "Anyway, on the real. Rachel really likes you. Like, _really_ likes you. All her life, she's been chasing her perfect romantic lead, and between you and me, all those guys were straight-up douches. She needs someone who doesn't need her to, I dunno, like _be_ something. I think you're that person."

Quinn frowned, unsure of what he was alluding to. "What do you mean?"

"Finn needed her to be his motivation because God knows he can't do anything without someone holding his hand and guiding him along. I needed her to be my moral compass. Jesse, in a way, needed her to be his muse. Brady needed her to be on his arm to further his own career. You don't need her to be anything. You just need her."

Quinn absorbed that for a moment. He was right. She really didn't need the brunette to be anything other than Rachel Berry. This burden of reconciling that past Rachel, immortalized and idealized in her mind with her real, tangible Rachel of the present was hers alone.

"So any advice? Any wise words of wisdom for wooing Rachel?"

"I send you luck," Puck deadpanned, resuming the game again. "Because you'll need it, dude. Rachel may seem like she's tiny and innocent, but she's a freaking wildcat. My best advice is to shake it up a bit. She's perfected seduction into some sort of art form. She knows how to work it to the best of her ability, and it is devastating if you just let her go with it. Toss her a curveball or a change up and throw her off her game."

"That seems difficult," Quinn mumbled.

"Fuck yeah, it is," Puck answered. "I'm not going to lie to you. She's like a friggin' Siren. Fucking San and Britt showed her exactly what she had working for her and schooled her into how to use them. And you know how Rachel is: when she sees something that she wants and she gets it in her head that she really wants it, she sets out to be the very best. And that makes resisting her hard as shit. Even if you succeed, you're gonna be wondering why you're bothering. So, yeah, good luck, dude."

"Puck?"

There was a grunt as Quinn stuffed his running back in the backfield well short of the line of scrimmage. "Yeah?"

"Is this, like, your roundabout way of giving me your blessing?"

A long pause sounded. "…I guess it is."

"Thanks…"

"No problem, bro."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn sighed as she finally turned off her Xbox, slumping back into the cushions of her couch. Puck had given her a lot to think about. She mulled over the events of the last few days, allowing a small smile to curl her lips as her mind drifted to how seamlessly Rachel fit into her family. She wondered if Rachel thought the same thing when she had been thrust into a Berry family function.

She lifted her head as her phone chimed, alerting her to an email from Frannie. Scooting over to where her laptop was charging on the coffee table, she opened up the email to find an album attachment of the Prescott's California trip.

Quinn smiled as she went through the photos that chronicled the young family's trip. The pictures started in San Francisco, showcasing the kids with their grandparents. There were cute shots by the Golden Gate Bridge, riding a cable car, by Fisherman's Wharf. The next set featured the family at Disneyland, amidst the atmosphere and colorful aura of the Happiest Place on Earth.

Quinn reached a finger out, tracing the features of her niece and her cute dimpled smile. Hayley was a lot like Frannie. The world was her playground. She was fearless, facing the challenges of her life with insolent fists firmly planted on her hips and her chin jutted out in defiance. Hayley was such an effervescent spirit, lighting the world with her grin and laugh, and quite content on hogging attention.

On the other hand, DJ definitely took after his father. He was a mere observer of the world, conceding the spotlight to his extroverted, more effervescent sister. His big, blue eyes took in everything around him, filing the information away. He didn't speak much, but when he did, it was usually something entirely hilarious or freakishly intelligent. But, Quinn could see little Davis John Prescott, IV was going to be a charmer. His little, bashful mannerisms were so endearing, all one could think about was sweeping his little body into ones arms and squeezing the life out of him. Quinn had certainly succumbed to that urge many times.

They were going to grow up to be great people, Quinn was sure of that, and she knew all the credit went to Trey and Frannie. Some people were born to be mothers, and Frannie was born to be a mother. Even when they were children, Frannie had always exhibited that motherly instinct. It was evident when each child was born that Frannie relished in her role as protector and provider for the wailing, squalling bundle in her arms.

By contrast, Quinn firmly believed that other people grew accustomed to motherhood, evolved into that loving protectiveness that characterized mothers. Sometimes, it merely lay dormant until circumstance brought it out of its idle state. Quinn had never seen that sort of motherly instinct in herself. She had never entertained the thought of having kids the way some girls often fantasized about their future families, but she learned very young that the world often moved too fast for one to keep up.

Quinn closed her eyes, her memories taken back to a different birth. She didn't see Hayley's twinkling navy eyes or DJ's tuft of dark chocolate hair. She saw the perfection of creation with a shock of light brown hair, spiraled with tight curls atop the head. Whether the eyes were hazel or blue, she wasn't sure. She never had a chance to find out.

She felt the crushing weight on her chest, the confusion swirling around her fuzzy mind. She felt the strong hand in hers, the damp tears tracing their path down her cheeks. She was taken back to the time of mental and physical exhaustion; nothing made sense, it all mixed together into a great ball of confusion tempered with fatigued pain. The full extent of what had happened didn't actually hit her or register in her mind until it was over.

Until it was too late.

A tear dropped onto her lap, darkening the denim of her jeans. Her phone was in her hand before she knew it, tapping the second contact of her favorites. The phone rang twice before the boisterous familiar voice answered.

"What up, Q?"

"Declan…"

There was a pause as Declan registered the broken sob separating the syllables of his name. Instinctively, he knew. "I'll be right there."

It wasn't long, only mere minutes, before Declan found himself at the front door of Quinn's house. Barreling through the entryway, he frantically searched the foyer, calling out for Quinn. His ears strained for a response and picked up the barely audible sobs that he followed to the living room. He saw Quinn on the floor against the couch. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her head bowed against the arms wrapped around her shins. He could see her eyes were tightly shut, the tangible evidence of her pain leaking from the corners to sear a path down her cheeks in the form of transparent tears. He didn't need to see those tears to know her grief. If she were to look up, he would see it radiating from her very being, centered on those hazel spheres, the utter agony simmering at the surface. There was only one thing that would bring about that kind of look to Quinn's eyes, that aura of absolute defeat to her posture. He didn't say anything; he just sat on the ground beside her and opened his arms, allowing her to collapse against him. Declan folded her into his embrace, allowing the tears to soak his shirt.

Declan stayed silent, his own tears pooling in his eyes. He shared Quinn's pain, knowing that it mirrored his own. He transferred his best friend to his lap, shifting her so that he could embrace her fully. Her head fell naturally to the crook of his neck, her arms clinging to him desperately.

Quinn's sobs echoed in his ears, but Declan didn't offer any words. He knew it would be a futile gesture. The English language simply didn't have sufficient enough words to offer adequate comfort.

So Declan simply held her, one hand rubbing against the skin of her right shoulder, the other finding hers, their fingers tangling together as they rested against her stomach.

_Um, yeah, so I'm totally sorry about the wait. Life got in the way. I also think I jinxed myself way back in April. Oooops._

_I hoped you liked the inclusion of some of Quinn's family: Frannie, Frannie's husband Trey, and their kids. I kind of based Frannie and Trey's appearances off of Yvonne Strahovski and Zachary Levi from the NBC television show Chuck (RIP ). Judy will also make a later appearance, and maybe Russell as well?_

_Anyway, next time, we'll have some fallout, plus Quinn and Rachel have some truths to face both about their relationship and each other. The girls face off against Puck's new fiancée, some faces from the past make their appearance, and Quinn and Rachel face the next bump in the road of their relationship: each other._

_Stay tuned people. As always, don't hesitate to leave a review, a question, or a comment on any of the mediums – Twitter, Tumblr, here…I love hearing from you all! Please, once again, also send thanks to __**CJ**__, an important part of Team Pot and Kettle!_

_*ISP_


	14. Chapter 13, Part I

_Alright, Ducklings, are you shocked this hasn't taken me a bazillion months? Because, you know, I totally am. What's even more shocking is how much of a chapter this is. So much that the other half of Team P&K, CJ, and I definitely decided that splitting it into two parts would be better than one huge chapter (which would have been over 50 pages, by the way)_

_So here you guys are: the first half of Chapter 13! Enjoy._

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 13<span>

_PART I_

_**Quinn Fabray strode across the foyer of Theodore Roosevelt High School, her head held high and her mask of indifference across her face. Inwardly, she relished in the crowds parting for her, a few people vying for her attention in even the slightest acknowledgement. Her cheerleading skirt swirled around her knees, teasing the leering eyes that followed her down the hall. **_

_**Quinn groaned as she noticed Carter Brandeis approaching with intent in his stride. Anyone who didn't know better would have swooned at the simple sight of the dreamy junior quarterback. He was a fairly good-looking guy, tall and athletic with a set of dimples that he flashed willingly when he smiled. Quinn sighed. His personality left a lot to be desired, however. **_

"_**Hey, Quinn."**_

_** Quinn didn't look up at the greeting. She knew what she was supposed to do, having seen it many times before at Carmel. She was supposed to bat her eyelashes, blushing as she relished in the attention of the most popular guy in school. In this scenario, she played Sadie Mitchell and Carter Brandeis was Denny Campbell. And she would have played her part perfectly…if she didn't know any better.**_

_** "Carter." The simple, short acknowledgment, curtly expelled as though a full courtesy wasn't warranted, flew from Quinn's lips without a glance.**_

_** Carter continued on, undeterred by the less-than enthusiastic greeting. He leaned lazily against the bank of lockers, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.**_

_** "So, I was thinking," he rotated, his back now against the lockers. "You're really hot. We should go out some time."**_

_** Inwardly, Quinn rolled her eyes. She wasn't particularly impressed with Carter Brandeis, not missing how his eyes had raked over her body the first time he had met her. Being invisible had another benefit, she noticed. She had honed a rather innate ability to read body language and ascertain an accurate impression from little interaction. Not surprisingly, Carter Brandeis did not leave a particularly good impression on one Quinn Fabray. **_

_** "No."**_

_** Carter looked thrown, as though her wasn't used to being rejected. He straightened, running a hand through sandy brown hair. "C'mon, dinner, a movie…" He leaned in with all the swagger and charm a teenage boy could muster. "Sounds awesome, doesn't it?"**_

_** Quinn grunted, more invested in looking for her Trig homework than the conversation. "Not particularly."**_

_** "I can pick you up whenever you want, you know?" Carter twirled a key ring around his finger. "I have a car…well, I mean, it's my mom's but I can still drive it whenever I want."**_

_** Quinn slammed her locker shut, whirling on the quarterback. If there was one thing she learned from that year of torture under Sadie Mitchell, it was how to let her inner bitch out. Her hazel eyes flashed dangerously as one slim, elegant eyebrow inched upward as a corner of her mouth twisted into a lopsided smirk. Quinn Fabray was not amused. **_

"_**I'm sorry, was the word I used not familiar to you? In case you were mistaken, I said 'No.' As in the negative, as in I don't want to do anything with you, as in I would rather you not be standing in front of me right now." **_

_** Carter's brows drew together. It was clear he wasn't used to rejection in any form. "I get it, you're playing hard-to-get." He backed away with an easy smile. "That's cool. Then I'm sure you won't mind me asking Hannah North out this weekend?" he commented, naming one of Quinn's biggest competitors for captain of Roosevelt's cheerleading squad.**_

_** "Awesome," Quinn drawled, highly nonplussed. "Her locker is on the other side of the school. I'm sure you'd rather not waste your time talking to me when you could be making the long trek in her direction." **_

_** Carter was doing a rather accurate impression of a carp as Quinn's attention snapped to a scuffle in the foyer of the main hallway. She saw Matt Bosworth messing with a short scrawny kid with thick glasses and the misfortune of sporting a mop of wild, curly black hair atop his head. Her eyes narrowing, Quinn brushed past Carter, heading towards the group of rabid teenagers.**_

"_**Hey!" Quinn pushed to the center of the scrum. She wedged her way in between Bosworth and the boy. "Back off!"**_

_**Carter sidled up behind Quinn. "Aw, look, it's Dorky D!" He pushed the smaller boy back, making him stumble. "What up, dweeb? Did you have a good time taped to the uprights?"**_

_**Quinn's gaze snapped to Carter. "Leave him alone."**_

_**Bosworth smirked, staring down at the girl in front of him. "How precious. Fabray's sticking up for the geek."**_

"_**Don't be jealous because he's got a better chance than either of you ever will, Bosworth," Quinn shot back.**_

_**Bosworth scoffed, lewdly gripping his balls. "You sure you don't want a ride, Fabray? First one's free."**_

"_**I'm surprised you have enough down there to grab," Quinn growled, squaring up to the bigger boy. "What, does picking on him make you feel like a big man? Does it give you those balls you're clearly lacking if you think it's a worthwhile activity?"**_

"_**C'mon, Quinn," Carter piped up, moving to stand beside Bosworth. "We're just messing with him. It's just a little fun."**_

_**Quinn cocked an eyebrow. "'A little fun'?" she repeated. "A little fun is listening to some music or throwing a Frisbee in the park. Picking on someone is not 'a little fun'."**_

"_**He's just screwing around," Carter scoffed. "It's harmless."**_

"_**Yeah, I'm just screwing around," Bosworth answered. "That was cute, Fabray, but c'mon. Let me at the dweeb." Bosworth advanced, but Quinn slid to the side, firmly planting herself between Bosworth and his target. **_

"_**Well, to get to him, you're gonna have to go through me." Quinn planted her hands on her hips, tilting her chin upward in challenge. "Go ahead, big guy. Put your hands on me. Let's see how much of a man you really are."**_

_**Bosworth rolled his eyes, reaching out to physically move Quinn. Quick as a flash, Quinn's right foot shot out, nailing him right in the groin. Squeaking in pain and surprise, Bosworth collapsed down to his knees, wheezing in agony. Quinn approached the writhing boy.**_

"_**Let me be very clear, Bosworth." Quinn leaned in, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I may not be as big as you, I may not be as strong as you, but rest assured, I will work you over if you even think of messing with me or with him ever again. It won't be physical, but I guarantee it will be painful. You want to be powerful? Picking on someone smaller than you doesn't make you powerful. It makes you pathetic."**_

_**Bosworth puffed up with the bravado of a man who just felt a little bit of his ego get a bit bruised and looked up through the haze of pain to stormy hazel eyes. Whatever comeback he had died in his throat, and he gulped instead. There was something in those multi-colored spheres that, quite frankly, scared the ever-loving shit out of him. It was like a raging wildfire simmering just below the surface, and it promised that Quinn would follow through on her threat. Wisely, he kept his mouth shut, preferring to concentrate on the dull throbbing radiating from his crotch. But, damn, did she kick hard. **_

"_**And you!" Quinn rounded on Carter, eyes still blazing. "You should try growing a pair and standing up for what's right if you want a chance with any girl worth anything." **_

_**Carter blinked as Quinn grabbed the boy's hand and tugged him along away from the gathered crowd.**_

"_**Whatever, Fabray!" He hollered down the hall. "You're not worth it!" His shout turned into a grunt as Darius Vonn lowered a shoulder and knocked him into a locker bank. Carter slid down to join Bosworth, groaning as he clutched his stomach. The star of Roosevelt's nationally-ranked basketball team laughed at the two hapless football players as he exchanged high-fives with the teammates flanking him. **_

"_**Keep telling yourself that, Brandeis," the star forward mocked. "Because that's as good as Roosevelt's gonna get." Darius sneered down at the two boys from his rather tall and muscular six-foot, eight-inch frame.**_

"_**I'd listen to the girl," Darius remarked, flashing a set of white teeth that contrasted nicely with his dark skin. "That Declan kid helps a lot of people pass their science classes."**_

"_**Plus he's a pretty cool dude, too," Mario Rosales chimed in, the point guard shoving his hands in his pockets. "He helped me with my Spanish essay for Señora Aguilar."**_

"_**Bro, you're Mexican," Darius replied blankly. "You've been speaking Spanish since you were little."**_

"_**Yeah, **_**speaking**_** it, but that's slang," Mario explained. "I sure don't use correct grammar slinging shit with my **_**tia**_**."**_

_**The group of basketball players nodded to Quinn and her new companion as they disappeared to another wing of the school.**_

_**Quinn stopped, breathing heavily through her nose. She threw her hands in the air, narrowly missing smacking the kid upside the head as she paced the hallway and ranted. **_

"_**God, I hate morons like that! Pushing people around just because they have those stupid letterman jackets. Like banging into other guys chasing after a stupid oblong ball makes you better than other people?!" She huffed. "I'd say that's all athletes, but Darius and the basketball team are mostly normal. I mean, you don't see them hanging people on the coat rack on the back of the chemistry lab, right?!"**_

_**She whirled back to the boy, who shrank back slightly under her stare. Seeing him do so, Quinn softened. He looked a bit perplexed at the rather rapid change of disposition.**_

"_**Sorry, I just really don't like bullies. They remind me that we are unfortunate evolutionary relatives with the Neanderthals."**_

_**The boy opened his mouth to speak, but all that was expelled, much to his chagrin, was a strangled squeak.**_

_**A small smile turned Quinn's mouth upward, instantly transforming Quinn's face. "What's your name?" It wasn't that growl that had stopped Matt Bosworth in his tracks or the sneering icy tone that verbally beat down Carter Brandeis; it was softer, friendlier.**_

_** "D-Declan," he answered, finally finding his voice. "Declan Riley."**_

_** Quinn cocked her head. "Are you a freshman?"**_

_** "N-no. Sophomore like you." His voice grew smaller as his eyes plummeted to the ground. "We're in the same history class."**_

_** "Oh…" Quinn winced and rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "Sorry."**_

_** "No big deal," Declan mumbled, scuffing a shoe into the linoleum. "I sit in the back corner. You'd miss me regardless."**_

_** "When's your lunch period?"**_

"_**Now," Declan answered. **_

_**Quinn nodded. "Mine too. You want to grab a table?"**_

_**Declan's brows drew together. "You want to eat lunch with me?"**_

_** "Sure. I mean, friends eat lunch together, don't they?"**_

_** Declan stared at her. "You want to be friends? Don't you already **_**have**_** friends?"**_

_** Quinn shrugged. "I'm new here. Haven't had time to try."**_

_** Declan's brow wrinkled skeptically. "You seem to be pretty popular with the squad."**_

_** "They're teammates," Quinn corrected. "They could become friends, but forced companionship doesn't necessarily mean friendship. I don't have many friends yet." **_

_** "And you want us to be friends?"**_

_** "Sure. Why not?"**_

_** Declan considered that for a moment. He nodded. "Cool."**_

_** This time, Quinn's smile was wide and bright as she stuck out her hand. "Quinn Fabray."**_

_** Declan threw out a lopsided grin, grabbing the offering and shaking firmly. "Declan Riley. Put her there, pal."**_

In the eyes of Theodore Roosevelt High, the friendship of Quinn Fabray and Declan Riley was a peculiar one. In the early stages, before Declan would bloom into his looks, people wondered how a girl as effortlessly gorgeous and aloof as Quinn would even spare a second glance to a dork like Declan Riley. It was a shake-up to the social perception of the girl when she had stood up to both Matt Bosworth and Carter Brandeis. Until then, no one was sure how to read Quinn Fabray because she was so aloof. That singular act had humanized her, in a way, had revealed something rather significant to the rest of Roosevelt. In a rather unique twist, Quinn Fabray had become an advocate to the downtrodden, a champion of the outcast. That singular act had made it okay to stand up for those being bullied, prompting a change in attitude amidst the masses of Roosevelt. If Quinn was willing to reach out to the perceived unpopular of Roosevelt, why shouldn't the rest of them?

Quinn wasn't the only one who became more transparent. Declan had also undergone a bit of a coming-out as well. Being connected to Quinn, he was thrust into the social spotlight as the only person Quinn really allowed to see much of herself beyond the reserved new star of the Roosevelt cheerleading squad. It seemed as though the blonde's influence was all was needed for Declan's previously stifled personality to emerge. The more people he was exposed to in connection to Quinn, the more people were enchanted with his good-humored, easy-going personality and ready smile.

What they didn't know was that Quinn saw a lot of Lucy in Declan. The population of Roosevelt was largely ignorant of the ugly duckling past their untouchable beauty held in the skeletons of her closet. It said a lot that no one really _cared_ about Quinn Fabray's existence prior to Roosevelt; they were too blinded by the appeal of the mystery surrounding her to actually try solving it. Lucy Caboosey may have wanted to be invisible, but Quinn was certain that all Lucy needed was a friend to make Carmel bearable.

That was how their friendship started, but neither would have ever predicted the events that would irrevocably bond them together and how it would resonate with them for the rest of their lives.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Declan didn't know how long they sat there, curled up against the floor of Quinn's living room. Quinn had always been such a survivor, such a strong person, such a formidable force. To see her so fragile and so vulnerable broke his heart. There was a reason Quinn was so aloof, so reserved, and it stemmed from a time where she suffered unbearable loss in so many different ways and at such a young age. He remembered hearing a Taylor Swift song back then about life at fifteen. She sang about how it was okay for someone to not know who he was at fifteen when things seemed so much bigger than they really were. At the time, Declan had scoffed at the song. The problems were so juvenile, so…irreverent that he just couldn't relate. He knew exactly who he was supposed to be at fifteen. She did too. Problem was, it was something they were thrust into, something they never would have imagined happening. In one moment, innocence had been ripped away, and it was time to grow up. They didn't have time to squeal about first dates or agonize about the dreamy guy on the football team; life was coming at them so much faster than they had anticipated.

Declan stroked Quinn's back as her breaths evened out, and she took a final, shuddering breath, her tears regressing to ragged inhales and exhales. Declan glanced down at her bowed head.

"Are you gonna be okay?" It was a trite question, one he hated to ask, but the vocal reassurance would appease him for a bit.

Quinn sniffled, nodding slowly. "Yeah. Frannie, Trey, and the kids visited. It was a complete surprise. She sent me pictures of their trip and…"

Declan nodded. "I got you."

"Do you ever wonder what she would have been like?"

Declan swallowed hard, his Adam's Apple bobbing. "Every day."

"I always wonder what color her eyes were," Quinn whispered. "I never got a chance to know. I just wanted to know…"

"Tell me about her," Declan murmured. "What would she have been like?"

There was a long moment of silence before Quinn spoke, barely audible and muffled by his shirt. "She would have been pretty. Not like us when we were kids. The early ugly duckling syndrome would have skipped her generation. Her hair would have been hard to tame, so she would have put it up in a ponytail. I think I'd want her to have your eyes."

"Keep going," Declan prompted.

"I think she would have been a little tomboy, roughhousing with the guys and kicking their butts in sports. She would have been a bit of a troublemaker, and we'd be constantly called into the principal's office because of some scrape she got in or something. She wouldn't have been afraid to get dirty, and we'd be constantly exasperated with the amount of laundry we had to do." Quinn took a deep breath.

"And she would have grown up knowing we loved her with everything we had and nothing would have changed that, even if she was gay or wanted to dye her hair five different colors or decided she wanted to be a boy when she was older. No matter what, she would know what love is."

Declan squeezed her tighter as Quinn quieted. His hand skimmed up and down her back as he started to sing, his deep voice rumbling with the familiar tune. One could never claim that he would be the next Freddie Mercury, but there was a familiar sort of comfort that came with his voice.

_Goodnight my angel, time to close your eye__s  
><em>_And save these questions for another day  
><em>_I think I know what you've been asking me  
>I think you know what I've been trying to say<em>

_I promised I would never leave you_  
><em>And you should always know<em>  
><em>Wherever you may go, no matter where you are<em>  
><em>I never will be far away<em>

Quinn snuggled into his chest, reveling in the soothing warmth, feeling the muscles rumble beneath her cheek as he kept on singing. She remembered the first time she had heard a Billy Joel song. It was "Piano Man" but for some odd reason, it had soothed the insistent flutterings that came from her midsection in a way nothing else could. She soon found that any song crooned by the Bronx balladeer was often magic to a restless soul, and she had exhausted his catalogue for that very purpose. The first time she heard "Lullabye," she knew it was going to be the one she would one day use to soothe her own future children. She never realized just how fitting this song would eventually be.

Quinn sniffled, burrowing into his chest, her voice joining his.

_'Goodnight my angel, now it's time to dream  
>And dream how wonderful your life will be<br>Someday your child may cry, and if you sing this lullabye  
>Then in your heart, there will always be a part of me<em>

_Someday we'll all be gone, but lullabyes go on and on_  
><em>They never die, that's how you and I will be<em>

The friendship between Lucy Quinn Fabray and Declan Riley may have begun with a simple act of kindness, but it had blossomed into something neither had seen coming. They shared a common past, and it was the events in their shared past that bound them together forever, for better or for worse. Declan remembered the first time he had seen her, so gorgeous and untouchable like an ethereal being gracing mere mortals. He had never fathomed that he, Declan Radcliffe Riley, would ever be the person who would breach that impenetrable shield.

And as Declan held Quinn in his arms, feeling her breaths even out, gently taking her to a thankful if not slightly restless slumber, he was forever grateful for whatever power drew them together to share this remarkable friendship even with all the heartbreak that existed in the past. Gathering Quinn gently into his arms, he stood and carried her to her bed, Charlie following loyally behind.

Declan laid her down, tucking her gently into the covers. He leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. Turning away from the bed, he ran a hand over Charlie's head.

"Watch over her, bud."

Charlie nodded, dutifully taking his post at the foot of Quinn's bed as Declan exited the room.

Declan closed the door behind him with a sigh. He made sure the house was locked up and the alarm was set before settling himself in the closest guest room from Quinn's bedroom. Sinking down onto the mattress, he held his head in his hands.

Only then did he allow himself to cry.

xxx-xxx-xxx

The early morning sun woke Quinn as it peeked through her blinds. She jerked into consciousness, blinking against the brightness. She grabbed her phone at her bedside table, noting the time. Flopping onto her back with a groan, she rubbed her hands over her face with a weighty sigh and peeled herself from her bed. The smell of bacon wafted from downstairs, and she followed her nose to the kitchen, scratching Charlie as she passed him on the way out the door and down the stairs.

Quinn stuck her head into her kitchen to find a similarly disheveled Declan manning the stove, peering dubiously into the frying pan as he supervised the strips of bacon simmering on the surface. She couldn't help but smirk as Declan tentatively reached out a fork to turn the bacon over, jumping back as the grease and oil popped, shooting out from the pan.

"You alright there, D?"

Declan grumbled, yanking his hand back as another pop sounded. "No one told me how dangerous it was to cook bacon."

Quinn grinned wryly. "How do you survive, big guy?"

Declan scowled, poking inside the pan, his torso leaned back to avoid flying grease. "Microwaves and toaster ovens are God's gift to mankind."

Quinn merely chuckled, plopping herself in a seat at the island counter placing her phone down at her elbow and laying her head in her arms.

Declan pushed the plate of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns in front of her. "You okay?"

Quinn shrugged, running a tired hand over her face. "I guess." She peered up at him through her unruly hair hanging over her eyes. "Thanks for coming."

Declan snorted, pouring liberal amounts of ketchup over his serving of food. "Duh, dude."

Quinn smiled, her first real one since the day before, as she dug in.

She jumped as her phone vibrated incessantly from its place at her elbow, and she reached over to read the message from Rachel.

_OMG, I can't wait for lunch at Ponderosa's. I've been craving their vegan Panini!_

"Shit," she mumbled. "I forgot I promised I'd meet Rachel for lunch."

Declan's brows drew together in concern. "You sure you're up for it? I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you cancelled. Just say you're sick or something."

"No, you know how Rachel gets. She'd rush over here armed with chicken soup and every over-the-counter medicine she could get her hands on." Quinn squeezed her eyes shut and pinching the bridge of her nose, rubbing firmly. "Better I brave it for a couple of hours."

"Well, Little Miss Ray of Sunshine and all, it's not very surprising." Declan placed their plates into the dishwasher and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. "Maybe she's what you need right now," he offered. "You know, that kind of effervescent personality…?"

Quinn smiled, a mere quirk of the lips. "Maybe." She sighed, standing up and moving over to Declan, giving him a hug. "I should go get ready. I've got some errands to run. Love you, D."

Declan leaned down, kissing her cheek. "Love you too, Q."

xxx-xxx-xxx

* * *

><p><strong>DUTY AND HONOR, UNDERNEATH THE MICROSCOPE<strong>

_As the release date of Chris Keller's latest projected hit,_ Duty and Honor, _looms closer and closer, the buzz is already starting to form around the much-anticipated film, naming it a front-runner for all the major awards. In the midst of the successes of his last studio films: the dramatic coming-of-age story _In Bloom, _spy thriller_ Grey Area, _and the film adaptation of the DC comic heroine Wonder Woman, Chris Keller is now tackling controversy head-on in his latest offering about a lesbian Marine in the wake of Don't Ask, Don't Tell._

Duty and Honor's _stars, Quinn Lucas and Rachel Berry, are also creating a healthy amount of buzz off-screen. Lucas, the long enigmatic sweetheart of NBC's hit _Queen of Babble, _and Berry, a Broadway veteran making her debut on the big screen, have already been quite visible in numerous public appearances and photographed with quite the array of impressive company, among them NFL superstar Noah Puckerman, action star Everett Michaels, fashion designer Kurt Hummel, and model-turned-actress Lindsay Giannelli. All eyes are now on them as they take on their roles as embittered Marine First Lieutenant Sloane Gerard and bakery owner Mia St. Claire._

_It still remains to be seen if Keller's film, already the subject of much controversy from both the conservative pundits and zealous religious organizations stating that this film is "glorifying the deviance and abnormality of homosexuality", "the liberal a conduit for pushing their agenda", and "tainting the long-standing traditions and notions of the military and its practices," is strong enough to sustain the momentum generated by the buzz alone. One thing is certain, however, all eyes are fixated on the cast and crew of _Duty and Honor_._

* * *

><p>Quinn frowned as she read over the latest news reports, noting a stark influx of attention and even more speculation on Rachel's new mystery interest. She could see Anson's name thrown around, a few accusing Puck of infidelity against his new fiancée, and even a few conspiracy theorists naming Finn as Rachel's new love, saying Rachel's comments were a red herring to keep the heat away from the discovery. She sighed. This was exactly why she stayed away from the press.<p>

"Hey!"

Quinn glanced up to find Rachel making her way towards her, a bright smile on her face. Quinn took a moment to appreciate the simple jean shorts and tank top concealing Rachel's amazing body as the little diva approached. She resisted the urge to lean down to give Rachel a kiss, settling instead for a prolonged hug.

"Hey."

Rachel frowned as she sat down, noting the bags under Quinn's eyes that she hadn't bothered to try covering up and the slightly slumped posture of the blonde. "Are you okay?"

Quinn shrugged, running a tired hand over her face. "I've had better days." She threw out a winning smile and poured on the charm, hoping the distraction would make Rachel forget about it. "Seeing you makes it infinitely better though."

Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pursing with the barest pull of cheek. A normal person wouldn't have picked up the infinitesimal gesture, but Quinn knew exactly what that meant. There was no way Rachel was going to simply let it go.

Sure enough, the little diva straightened in her chair, leaning in slightly. "Want to talk about it?"

Quinn drew in a deep breath, lolling her head back against the chair. She seemed to consider that for a moment before slowly shaking her head. "No, not really."

Rachel studied her for a long moment. Quinn couldn't shake the feeling of every layer of herself being peeled away as Rachel tried to slip to the core. Quinn had no doubt that the brunette was capable of it and in the sneakiest way possible. Quinn couldn't help but relax as Rachel relented.

"Okay, but I'm here if you do want to talk."

Quinn mustered up a smile. "I appreciate that."

Rachel grinned, reclining back in her chair. "Are you excited for the Super Bowl coming up?"

This time, Quinn's smile was much more genuine as she thought of their upcoming trip down to the Edward Jones Dome in St. Louis, Missouri to watch Puck's Chargers take on the New York Giants. "Of course I am." She eyed Rachel playfully. "You're not going to have a question of allegiance, are you?"

Rachel squirmed in her seat. "While I admit, I had a fleeting," she narrowed her eyes at Quinn's smirk, "I repeat, _fleeting_ – moment of reconsideration, I admit my loyalty to Noah long predates my love for New York in all facets, and I shall align myself accordingly."

"Good," Quinn declared. "Because, you know, that'd be _super_ awkward…"

Rachel stuck her tongue out in response, chucking her balled-up napkin into the blonde's smug face.

* * *

><p><strong>IS THE ICE QUEEN MELTING?<strong>

_Rachel Berry and Quinn Lucas, stars of the upcoming Christian Keller military film _Duty and Honor_ shared what seemed to be a cozy lunch yesterday. Lucas, notorious for her reclusive personality, has rarely been seen without the company of her _Duty and Honor_ costar since the pair began filming the Chris Keller drama. Is the Ice Quinn melting? Perhaps…_

* * *

><p>xxx-xxx-xxx<p>

Bellies full, they returned back to Rachel's suite where Quinn settled down on the couch, huffing out a laugh as the brunette plopped down beside her, lifting Quinn's arm to drape over her shoulder. One thing Quinn had certainly noticed in their short courtship was that the little diva was definitely not shy about showing affection. She had seen it with Santana, Brittany, and Puck, but that affection came from years of building a close friendship.

Rachel snuggled as close as she could, molding her body to Quinn's. Her hands went to Quinn's hair, tenderly stroking the unruly strands from Quinn's face.

"Your hair's so soft," she murmured, head craning up to meet Quinn's fond gaze.

Quinn shrugged. "Nothing special with it…just conditioner."

Rachel hummed, turning her face in towards the crook of Quinn's neck, her nose skimming against the pale column. Her lips pursed, leaving the barest of kisses on the skin.

"I can't stop thinking about your kisses," Rachel admitted softly. Her lips moved up to Quinn's jaw line. "You're very addicting."

Quinn held back a whimper, resisting the urge to tilt her head and allow Rachel more access. "C'mon, Rach," she grunted, chagrined to note her voice had more than a hint of a plea behind it. "Slow down a bit."

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel drawled. She leaned up, her lips seeking out Quinn's. "Don't you know this will go so much better if you just give in?" She meandered over to Quinn's ear, teasingly nipping the lobe as she started to sing.

_I'm gonna wear you down  
><em>_I'm gonna make you see  
><em>_I'm gonna get to you  
><em>_You're gonna give in to me_

_I'm gonna start a fire  
><em>_You're gonna feel the heat  
><em>_I'm gonna burn for you  
><em>_You're gonna melt for me_

_Come on, come on  
><em>_Into my arms  
><em>_Come on, come on  
><em>_Give in to me_

"Rachel…" Quinn hissed out a breath, arching off the cushion as Rachel's fingers danced just beneath the hem of her shirt. Her hands stayed resolutely at her sides.

"Why are you fighting so hard, Quinn?" Rachel purred, sliding onto Quinn's lap. She ducked her head, nipping Quinn's pulse point, hips rolling in their achingly familiar dance. One hand drifted down briefly palming Quinn's breast before raking through Quinn's hair. Her lips captured Quinn's, caressing, stroking, providing just a taste, before drawing back teasingly.

"I know you want me just as much as I want you." Rachel's tongue poked out, tickling Quinn's pulse point once again. "Give in to me, Quinn."

Up until that point, Quinn had refrained from unleashing the rather primal side of her sexuality, the side that effortlessly charmed and wooed prospective lady loves with the precision of a master surgeon. It was a persona crafted just as carefully as her Quinn Lucas image, and one that could be devastatingly effective when honed in on potential prey. At Rachel's words, however, it was clear the little brunette was underestimating Quinn's iron-clad control. If Quinn had truly wanted just sex, she could have Rachel naked and wanting with nothing more than a significant look and a raised eyebrow, but whatever it was between them deserved better than instant physical gratification. Perhaps it was time to turn the tables a bit. Rachel was being a bit too smug.

Quinn growled, her hips pinning the brunette down to the couch. Rachel squeaked out in surprise as she found herself looking up into intense hazel spheres. The glint in Quinn's eyes stole her breath. They shone with a dangerous sheen, almost predatory.

"You want to know why I want to wait?" Quinn murmured, her low, rasping voice wafting hotly into Rachel's ear, sending a shockwave of heat straight to the other woman's center. "Because I know this is going to be amazing," she punctuated her assertion with a rough grind of her hips. "I know that making love to you, that _fucking_ you is going to be nothing short of mind-blowing."

Rachel couldn't help but whimper as Quinn's lips traveled down to her neck, nipping and sucking in an erratic pattern that was driving her wild. Her hips surged up, desperate for purchase, any sort of friction that could provide relief. She whined as Quinn rocked back, denying her with a smirk.

Quinn traveled down, her tongue skipping up and over Rachel's collarbone, teeth scraping across the swells of Rachel's breasts. One hand skated beneath Rachel's tank top, fingernails raking lightly against the tan skin eager for her touch. "I want to know everything else is going to be amazing too."

Rachel hissed out a groan as Quinn's hand slid from her abdomen down to the waistband of her shorts, one finger tracing the seam before sliding lower to cup her sex. There was no doubt the blonde could feel the heat radiating from her core.

"Quinn…"

"I don't want you to just want me," Quinn husked. She maneuvered herself between Rachel's legs. "I want you to _yearn_ for me in every way."

Rachel arched up as Quinn's thigh skimmed against her center. The blonde traced her fingertips along the lace and silk of her bra before retracting to fist in Rachel's hair. A strangled moan of surprise escaped Rachel's lips as Quinn thrust forward roughly, sending the tremors rollicking through every nerve ending available in her body.

"This won't be just sex," Quinn vowed. "This will be absolute and utter fulfillment." Her breath hot in Rachel's ear, she punctuated her statement with another forceful thrust that prompted a gasp.

"When I'm done with you, you won't be able to feel anything other than the rapturous euphoria of complete satisfaction." Quinn smirked, pulling gently so that Rachel's eyes met hers. "I want you to reach your breaking point until there's nothing left for you to do but to surrender to your desire."

Rachel surged up, catching Quinn's mouth in her own. She drank in the desperate kisses, greedily accepting Quinn's tongue as it ventured out to tangle with her own. Her body rocked of its own volition, acting off of instinct rather than pure consciousness. She ground her hips against Quinn's muscled thigh, frantic for the delicious friction that sent her body tingling. She directed the hand tangled with Quinn's beneath her shirt to cup her breast, a keening moan erupting as the blonde rolled the aching nipple between her fingertips.

"Hey, Ray…Whoa, sorry!" Brittany jumped as she found the two women in a rather compromising position. She grinned sheepishly. "My bad."

"Hey, Britt." Quinn lifted herself off Rachel, taking a spot at her side as though she hadn't just been caught ravishing the tiny brunette. Quinn left Rachel sprawled over the couch, thoroughly and completely disheveled, her eyes wide and glassy with a dual armament of lust and arousal.

Brittany grinned at the sight of her normal put-together best friend so unhinged. "Hey, Ray, sorry to interrupt sexy times, but we have that interview taping. You might want to get ready."

Rachel nodded absently, her face bright red with both arousal and embarrassment. "Thanks, Britt." Rachel took a moment to compose herself, hitching up her shorts and buttoning them. She looked to Quinn. "Come with me?"

Quinn's eyebrow arched upward, her mouth tilting in time to showcase a lecherous smirk.

"Perv," Rachel accused playfully, smacking the blonde. "I meant to the taping."

Quinn laughed. "Whose show?"

"Elaine DeGarza," Rachel answered with an excited bounce. "I've always wanted to be interviewed by her. Daddy and Poppa are such huge fans."

Quinn nodded. "Sure. I love Elaine."

Rachel beamed. "Excellent." She cleared her throat, rising from the couch to head towards her bathroom. "I'm just going to go get ready."

Quinn let out a deep breath as Rachel flounced away. The ache was present in her own body, but she fought it down. She turned to Brittany, ruffling her hair sheepishly.

"Er…sorry you had to walk into that."

Brittany smirked knowingly and just held up a hand.

Quinn barked out a laugh, shaking her head and obliging, her palm meeting Brittany's firmly.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Elaine DeGarza was a quick-witted comedienne and actress, who had come out to much scrutiny during a time where homosexual visibility hadn't quite made its way into the mainstream media. Her career had stalled before she reemerged as one of daytime's leading talk show hosts. She had found her niche with her self-titled show and even her personal life, falling in love and marrying British supermodel Presley Richards following quite the publicized relationship. Currently, the legally-titled Mrs. DeGarza starred in a comedy sitcom about a dysfunctional, morally defunct family, aptly dubbed _Delayed Evolution_.

Elaine was one of the few from whom Quinn never hesitated to accept an interview request. She had long been a fan of the comedienne and admired Elaine for the rather bold choice of choosing to live her life freely and without reservations when it hadn't quite become as accepted.

Quinn lounged in the dressing room, waiting for Rachel to come back from makeup. She idly scrolled through her phone, checking her email, texting her mother, and responding to a few tweets that were worth replying to, mentioning Rachel in a couple. The trailer for the film had been out for awhile, and she was pleasantly surprised at the reception from her fans.

**SweetSammyS  
><strong>_QuinnLucas _Love seeing you and _MsRachelBerry_ hanging out! She's so cute!

**QuinnOfMyHeart  
><strong>Can't wait to see _QuinnLucas _and _MsRachelBerry_ in #DutyandHonor Already clearing my schedule for the premiere.

**MrGaryToYou  
><strong>Kudos to _QuinnLucas_ and _MsRachelBerry_ on tackling the issues in their new movie. Good to see Hollywood stepping it up.

Quinn wasn't ignorant to the dissenters to the film as well, and she had received many a scathing correspondence towards the nature of her sexuality and her new role but much of the reception had been largely positive. Still, the rather heady buzz surrounding the movie prompted Quinn to be extra attentive when it came to the protection of both her professional and private lives. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that her 'open yet discreet' lifestyle would make her invulnerable to the crazed homophobes and conservative talking heads who took just as much offense as if she was flaunting it. She was well aware of the scrutiny she was under by helming this project. This movie definitely had the potential to thrust her into a level of inspection with which she wasn't comfortable; it was almost certain to prompt more and more media persons to try and dig even further into life. Knowing that, it was imperative that she exercise vigilance and discretion.

She glanced up as Rachel entered the dressing room. The brunette gave a little twirl, modeling the white lace dress that set off her tan skin, the thigh-length hem showing off Rachel's long and slender legs, her feet clad in champagne-colored heels. Her hair was down in gentle waves, bangs gently tickling her forehead.

"Well, what do you think?"

Quinn smiled softly, reveling in the sight before her. It was perfect, not too casual, not too dressy, and Rachel looked absolutely stunning. "Amazing."

Rachel leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Quinn's lips, careful not to muss her lipstick. "Thanks for coming with me."

Quinn shrugged. "No big deal." She squeezed Rachel's hand. "Have fun out there."

Rachel winked. "I'm always excellent with interviews, Quinn. Don't you worry."

For some reason, that assertion put Quinn right on edge.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Elaine DeGarza sat reclined in a comfy, squishy chair a bright smile on her pretty features. Her short, cropped blonde hair shining in the studio lights, she addressed the studio audience who waited anxiously for her guest. She crossed her legs, showing off a rather loud pair of striped socks, twirling a simple platinum wedding band around her ring finger.

"My next guest started on the bright lights of a Broadway stage in _Thoroughly Modern Millie_ where she won a Tony Award. She is in Christian Keller's new drama _Duty and Honor_. Please welcome Rachel Berry!"

Rachel beamed, striding out with an enthusiastic wave to the crowd. She leaned up on her tiptoes to accept a hug from the taller host, laughing and nodding with whatever Elaine whispered in her ear upon parting. Rachel gracefully sank down into the cushioned chair, settling herself as Elaine plopped into the chair opposite her.

"Well, hello there!"

"Hello!" Rachel smoothed out the skirt of her dress, daintily tucking one ankle behind the other. "Thank you so much for having me."

"Thanks for being here. I know you're busy promoting the movie."

Rachel laughed, waving a hand. "Oh, I would have rearranged everything to fit you in or risk the wrath from my fathers."

Elaine nodded, sagely. "We can't have that! How is your father Miles? We heard he is a police officer with the Lima, Ohio police department and he was recently shot in the line of duty."

"Good as new," Rachel assured Elaine. "He's been recovering and doing physical therapy, but he's still on leave, so he's getting a bit restless." Rachel smiled fondly. "That blue blood runs very thick in him."

"And we wish him a speedy recovery."

"I'm sure he'll be so glad to hear that." Rachel looked to the camera, waving enthusiastically. "Hi, Daddy! Hi, Poppa! Hi, Mom!"

The audience laughed along as Rachel shrugged sheepishly, and Elaine relaxed into her chair, looking fondly over at her guest.

"So, we came across this interesting photo courtesy of your costar, Anson Blake."

Rachel laughed. In the photo Quinn, suspended by wires, was flying through the air, a look of abject terror on her face. Rachel stood behind her, a fierce look adorning her face, arms raised as if she had "thrown" Quinn. "Oh, yes. It was during a break in filming, and we wanted to try out the wires. They only had time for one of us so we rock-paper-scissored for who got to go on." Rachel pouted. "I lost. This is what came of that."

Elaine chuckled, shaking her head. "I'm told you're responsible for most of the hijinks that happened on set."

Rachel demurred, flicking her bangs from her forehead. "I have my fun, yes."

"So this is your first film role, but this isn't your first professional job. You started at Tisch, and you've been on Broadway for various roles, the most recent of which was Roxie Hart in _Chicago_."

"That's correct," Rachel affirmed. "I grew up in Lima, Ohio, but Broadway and New York had been my dream from the first time I watched the movie _Funny Girl_ as a child, and I was fortunate enough to secure a job upon my graduation."

"And you have done very well. A Tony Award for your first musical, _Thoroughly Modern Millie_, and now it seems you've made it to the big screen."

"That's right." Rachel nodded. "I've been very fortunate."

"So why don't you tell us about this new film that's coming out?"

"Well, _Duty and Honor_ is a story about Sloane Gerard, a Marine who has just come back from a tour overseas, and this is her story about how she juggles the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell and the option of an out life with the societal expectations of her conservative Midwest town."

"That's quite ambitious endeavor," Elaine commented. "Now, you weren't the first actress to take this role. You took over for Jennifer Wolfe, who was originally cast as Mia. How did this opportunity come about?"

Rachel sat a bit straighter, folding her hands in her lap. "Well, from what Chris Keller has told me, he saw a picture of me in the _New York Times_, remembered my role as Millie, and decided right then and there that he wanted me as Mia."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," Rachel confirmed. "I think it is now a recognized caveat in Hollywood that no one should ever disregard a Chris Keller hunch, so the producers went with it."

"It must have been overwhelming to have a Hollywood director call you out of the blue and offer you the role of a lifetime."

"It was!" Rachel giggled. "My agent gave me a heads-up that he was calling me, but that certainly didn't prepare me for the shock. I'm pretty sure I asked him if he was certain a couple of times. I mean, who knows? Maybe there's another Rachel Berry who spells her name differently than I do!"

"And I'm sure you're glad you were the correct Rachel Berry!"

"Oh, of course," Rachel answered. "Gosh, that would have been devastating if he was mistaken."

"Now that you've filmed this movie, how is it different than theatre?"

Rachel contemplated her response. "Well, for one the hours are certainly insane. Broadway is pretty structured in that you always know when your shows are, that part never changes, and while people may come in and out of the production, the content is pretty much the same. Hollywood," Rachel shook her head fondly. "Hollywood is a whole different bear. Sometimes, I'm not even sure who I'm working with for the day until I've arrived on set!"

"But you enjoyed this experience?"

"Oh, I had a blast!" Rachel enthused. "Everyone has been so warm and welcoming, and it's been a great time."

"Even Quinn Lucas?" Elaine prompted. "She's not known for being an open person."

"_Especially_ Quinn," Rachel amended, quick to defend her costar. "It's certainly not a misconception that she's a bit aloof, but it _is_ a misconception that she's frigid and unpleasant. She's one of the warmest, most engaging people I have ever met. One just has to be patient and allow her to show that side on her own time. I am truly blessed to have her in my life now."

Elaine waited as the applause died down before she switched gears to another topic. She brought out a stack of pictures with a rather cheeky grin. "So, we have been hearing a good amount of your love-life in the tabloids. You certainly don't waste any time getting out there."

Rachel shook her head good-naturedly. "I must have skipped the stealth section of celebrity class."

"I mean," Elaine showed the first photo, "we have this…"

Rachel laughed at the sight of her and Puck, the linebacker holding her up to his eye-level with a vice grip around her legs, her arms slung around his neck as they grinned at one another.

"He's my best friend in the whole world. I've known him since our parents brought us to the same Temple when we were babies."

"But you have dated Noah Puckerman in the past?"

"Yes. Briefly."

Elaine nodded. "And this is your ex-boyfriend?"

Rachel's nose wrinkled at the picture of her and Brady walking, his arm slung around her shoulders, the hand dangling by her collarbone tangled with hers. "Correct. That didn't end well…"

"No, we heard about that as well." Elaine showed the final picture, the now-infamous shot of Finn smothering a rather tiny-looking Rachel. "And this is also your ex-boyfriend?"

Rachel laughed, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of the photo. She know understood what Quinn was talking about when she declared Rachel standing next to Finn made the brunette infinitely more miniscule in relation. "Also correct."

"So there isn't a relationship with any of these men, but you might have hinted at a romance with another man."

"I did…" Rachel played coy so well.

"But none of these men are your reported love interest?"

Rachel shook her head. "No."

Elaine nodded. "So I guess the question is, who is he?"

A slow, melting smile split Rachel's lips as she nonchalantly flipped her hair behind her shoulder. "What makes you think it's a he?"

Elaine certainly wasn't expecting that response as her eyes widened, and the ever-composed host looked thrown. Finally regaining her sense of speech, she leaned forward in her chair. "Are you telling me your mystery person might be a _she_?"

Rachel giggled cutely, thoroughly aware of her newfound power in their current situation. "I didn't ever mention a gender, did I? I have always thought my sexuality to be fluid, and it would be an injustice to my fathers and myself to not consider the possibility of finding romance from alternative sources to my norm."

Elaine honestly had nothing to say in response. She merely gaped at the camera as the audience hooted and hollered. For her part, Rachel ducked her head down, lips curled in a sly, enigmatic smile.

Rachel could have never predicted the extent of the storm that was brewing in the wake of that confession, and the eye began mere feet away in a dressing room occupied in part by a certain blonde.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Back in Rachel's dressing room, Quinn's mouth dropped as she heard Rachel's coyly uttered words. She stood from her seat, moving towards the screen that played the interview in front of her. As the words sunk in, she rotated slowly to Santana and Brittany watching from the couch, one finger pointed to the television.

"Did she just say what I think she just said?" Quinn intoned.

"_Ay dios mio_," Santana grumbled beneath her breath.

"I can't believe this!" Quinn hissed, beginning to pace in front of the screen.

Santana and Brittany exchanged a glance as they observed the blonde silently fuming. Being fairly secluded from the soundstage allowed this sudden burst of emotion to resonate. It was clear Quinn was not happy in the slightest, but had they been in mixed company, Quinn wouldn't have dared to make any sort of indication towards her displeasure. There certainly wasn't any guessing to Quinn's outlook concerning their current situation. Neither Brittany nor Santana could hear what was being said as Quinn began muttering inaudibly, but they knew for sure it wasn't anything warm and fuzzy. Brittany leaned down to Santana.

"I'm kinda scared for Ray," she whispered.

Santana nodded. "Right?"

Whatever reaction they thought Rachel was going to receive, they didn't have to wait long to find out as the brunette bounced into the room a moment later.

"Wow, that was quite thrilling!" Rachel enthused. "Are all talk show interviews like that?" She halted as she noted the rather grim expression on her costar's face, an expression mirrored by Santana and Brittany. "Quinn? Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine," Quinn bit out. "We need to talk. Not here though."

Rachel frowned. Quinn's eyes told a different story, the wildfire raging in the hazel spheres. She may have stated otherwise, but the tension was evident in Quinn's posture and carriage. The blonde turned sharply on her heel, stomping out the door.

Santana bit her lip. "I'm guessing that's our cue to leave. She might wrestle the keys from Derrick and drive off without us."

The drive back was tense, the thunderous expression on Quinn's face halting any attempts for conversation. Santana and Brittany exchanged another uneasy glance. The tension was palpable, and Rachel looked understandably confused at the rather surly demeanor of her costar. She honestly wasn't sure what had transpired from the time she had exited the dressing room to the time she had returned, but it seemed as though Quinn's attitude had done a complete one-eighty. Needless to say, nothing was said until they got back to the hotel.

Quinn waited until the door was shut, whirling on the tiny brunette. "Rachel, you can't just say stuff like that!"

Rachel recoiled back. "Excuse me?"

"Discreet, Rachel!" Quinn ranted. "Discreet! That is the key word."

Rachel cocked her head in confusion. "Concerning what, Quinn?"

"Everything!" Quinn shot back.

Rachel merely leveled her costar with a look. "You're going to have to be more specific Quinn," she commented. "Considering telepathy is not one of my considerable talents, I cannot possibly begin to even fathom to what particular aspect you are referring."

"You can't just go off and say the stuff that you did to Elaine like that!"

"And what exactly did I say?" Rachel challenged. "I didn't mention you, I didn't even confirm that my romantic interest was a woman, all I did was open up the idea that it _could_ be a woman."

"The fact that you even said anything in the first place is the problem!" Quinn practically shrieked.

Santana opened her mouth to defend her best friend, but she stopped as Brittany placed a hand on her arm. Looking to her girl with questioning eyes, Santana frowned as Brittany shook her head. Her frown transitioning to a pout at the lost opportunity to go Lima Heights, Santana conceded, standing down at the moment.

"So your problem is that I answered a question asked of me," Rachel reiterated in an attempt to better understand the situation.

"No," Quinn corrected. "My problem is that you said too much."

"As opposed to?"

"Two words," Quinn gestured with her hands. "No. Comment."

Rachel shook her head. "But I do have a comment, and I'm going to say whatever that comment is."

"When it's easier to say nothing at all?!" Quinn threw up her hands. "You know what? Forget it. I can't deal with this right now!" With a growl, Quinn turned on her heel, stomping out the door.

Rachel looked utterly bewildered at this turn of events, staring at the spot occupied by the blonde merely seconds before. She turned to Brittany.

"I'm not even sure what just happened."

Santana snorted. "Call me crazy, but I don't think Quinn was too happy about the way you basically outed yourself to the world, Tiny." She sighed, grabbing her phone and heading to her and Brittany's bedroom. "I've gotta call Jazz and…everyone. We're gonna have to do some damage control. Or at least coordinate so that everyone's on the same page."

Rachel stared after Santana, wide-eyed and still horribly confused and turned to her tall, blonde assistant. "I don't understand," she admitted. "Why is Quinn so angry with the way I did that interview?"

Brittany sighed. "C'mon, Ray, you gotta see it her way, too. It's like when you fill up a balloon. When you let the air out, you can do it two ways: You can just let go and all the air just rushes out, or you can pinch the end and slowly let it squeak out. When it comes to talking to the press, you're the first one; you just let it all out at once. Quinn's the second one. She does it slowly little by little."

Rachel nodded slowly. "Well, okay, but _why_?"

"Q's super private," Brittany reminded her. "She's like a roly-poly bug. When something threatens her, she curls up in a little ball so that her soft parts don't get hurt."

"And what am I like?" Rachel asked.

"A porcupine," Brittany answered promptly. "You spike up and take it head on." She wrapped the little brunette in a hug. "Remember, Ray. You gotta play see-saw with Quinn. One person can't always be in the air and one person can't always be on the ground. That's no fun."

Rachel nodded with a hefty sigh. She could see Brittany's point, even if she didn't like it. "Got it, Britt. Thanks."

Rachel could only hope this incident didn't damage the tentative relationship they had established.

xxx-xxx-xxx

The next day, Quinn was certainly not amused that someone had managed to capture her rather thunderous mood outside of Elaine's studio as she led the way back to the car and had posted the accompanying picture on Twitter.

* * *

><p><strong>Hollywood411<br>**_QuinnLucas_ and _MsRachelBerry_ outside of _ElaineDeG's_ studio. Despite what is being claimed, looks like the Ice Quinn is back! Twitpic

* * *

><p>"She's like a leaky faucet," Quinn grumbled under her breath, pacing back and forth in her living room as Charlie looked on with disinterest. "No matter how hard you tighten the handle, a little bit always manages to drip out."<p>

Quinn threw both hands skyward, continuing back and forth. Charlie followed her with his eyes, his head flopping on the rug.

"I mean, she should know that the press is like a pack of rabid, starving hyenas!" Quinn continued to rage. "Dangle that little piece of meat in front of them and they pounce, ripping it to shreds and leaving a wave of destruction and chaos behind them. She should know that giving them even a tiny little morsel opens up the doors for mass devastation. They're gonna blow everything out of proportion and there won't be anything she can do to stop it! My privacy is already out the window, may as well send it out to SPACE!"

Charlie grunted. There really was no stopping Quinn when she got like this.

"I mean, it's not a lot to ask that she doesn't say anything about her private life, right?"

Quinn whirled towards Charlie, one finger extended, a wild fire in her eyes. "_Right?!_"

Charlie merely gazed up at her as his head lolled to the side. Quinn scoffed, batting a hand at him agitatedly. "You're no help." She stopped, shoulders slumping as her head drooped down to her chest. "I'm going out," she waved a hand to the beach just down the steps of the patio, "there…"

Charlie sighed, shaking his head as she went out to the back where her surfboards and gear hung beside the outdoor shower. Charlie stretched out with a yawn. He plopped his head down on the comfy rug.

_Humans_…

Out on the sands of the adjacent private beach, Quinn stood with her surfboard tucked under her arm and looked out at the gently crashing waves. There was something soothing about being out there, watching the rolling water ripple to the shore. It calmed the turbulent feelings coursing through her mind, bouncing off each other until they became a mass of disjointed emotion that couldn't be deciphered one way from another. Hitching her surfboard higher under her armpit, she jogged out into the swell to face her aquatic foe.

The spray of salt water against her face was rejuvenating, as she emerged from the depths of the ocean to lie flat on her board, paddling out to meet the gently rolling tide. She waited for the perfect set, turning the nose of her board towards the shore and moving with the current before hauling herself up on the break.

Quinn carved gracefully through the waves. Her muscles flexed with her movement, manipulating the board with ease. She looked comfortable amongst the waves, commanding the water like a female version of the ancient Greek god who ruled over the sea. There was no tension in her features as she weaved in and out, cutting up towards the crest and riding the break back down. She was at peace, dipping and diving amidst the swelling current, ruling over nature and owning the ocean. In that moment, she was free.

Her freedom was only temporary, and she exited the waters, heading back to the house. Stripping herself of her wetsuit top and shorts, Quinn propped her board beside its fellows and entered the outdoor shower in the corner of the patio. She stood under the spray washing away the salt water, her hands braced against the shower wall and head bowed down as she felt the water cleanse her in more ways than one.

Freshly showered and feeling refreshed, Quinn trumped back into her living room. She rumpled her hair, in a pair of loose shorts and a comfortable, well-worn cut-off t-shirt. Wiggling her feet into a pair of leather flip-flops, she plopped down onto the couch with a hefty sigh and looked to her dog. Charlie hadn't moved, still on his belly, watching her closely. Much calmer, but still not quite _calm_, she grumbled to her dog.

"Never has anyone caused this much trouble for me, and we're not even officially dating!" Quinn balled up her fists and wriggled in an irritated little shimmy, clearly showing her displeasure. "Imagine if the press got a hold of this!"

Quinn lolled her head to the side and exhaled deeply, the agitated breath ruffling the bangs that hung in her line of vision.

Charlie rolled his eyes. He had a feeling Quinn wasn't going to make the first move. He hauled himself up, moving to the bowl where Quinn often left her keys and essentials. Grabbing the key ring in his teeth, he dropped the keys in her lap, and grabbed the hem of her shorts, tugging intently. Quinn rose to her feet, looking curiously down at her dog. Charlie scooted behind her, his nose nudging the back of her knees and urging her forward to the front door. Rearing up on his hind legs, he used his paws to deftly flip the lock and turn the knob. Charlie sat back on his haunches with an expectant tilt of his head and a commanding bark, one paw pointed out the open door to the second of her two cars in the wrap around drive way, a drop-top Jeep that looked as though it had lived through a sandstorm.

"No," Quinn rejoined stubbornly, reading his intention. "I'm not going. Why do I have to be the one to apologize?"

Charlie stared unrelentingly into her eyes, responding with an insistent growl.

"No!" Quinn insisted, crossing her arms. "I'm right!"

Charlie merely lofted a paw again, pointing out towards the car.

Quinn sighed, kicking at the ground. "Fine. God, you're so bossy…"

Charlie rolled his eyes, nosing her butt from behind with a sharp jab of his head, pushing her to the driveway, knowing that Quinn would dawdle if left to her own devices.

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Quinn grumbled, making sure she had all the essentials before Charlie had her out in front of the car. She looked back. "You gonna be alright here?"

Charlie barked, lifting his paw and veritably waving her off. Quinn grumbled some more as she clambered into her Jeep and started the engine with a roar. As she pulled away from the driveway, she saw Charlie shake his head and make his way back inside to close the door firmly behind him.

Quinn sighed, returning her attention to the road. Why couldn't she have gotten the _dumb_ dog?

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn didn't know it yet, but at her destination, Rachel was going through a very similar conversation with her own smarter-than-average pup. The little diva looked absolutely miserable as she curled up on the couch, wrapped around Hugo as the large pup offered her comfort.

"I can't help it," she mumbled to her dog, burying her face in his fur. "It just comes out. I don't even know what she's so stringent with what I say! It's not like I mentioned her directly!"

Rachel sighed heavily. "I just can't win with her. I don't know what's going on in her head, it's like a minefield. You have to tread lightly or BOOM!" Rachel shot upright, upending Hugo. "You know what, this is dumb! I shouldn't be feeling bad about what I said. I merely spoke the truth!"

Hugo oriented himself from the sudden jostling of his comfortable position and barked in agreement in clear solidarity with his mistress.

"So it's settled then," Rachel declared firmly. "We're mad at Quinn."

Hugo sealed their agreement with another bark.

Rachel held onto her righteous indignation for a moment before deflating with a pout. "But I don't _want_ to be mad at Quinn," she whined. "And I don't want her to be mad at me…"

Hugo tilted his head in confusion, unsure of which emotion he should convey. Whimpering pitifully, he ducked down, covering his head with his paws. Boy, this emotion stuff was _not_ for the dogs…

Rachel sat resolutely on the couch, trying to muster up enough indignation for it to stick. She was failing miserably. As a knock sounded on the door, she hauled herself up and found Quinn hovering at the threshold, shifting anxiously from side to side.

Rachel couldn't help but smile inwardly. Quinn looked just like the beach bum she often imagined. She took in Quinn's hair, noting the darker blonde color. The slightly damp strands were unruly, and Rachel knew Quinn had ruffled the blonde locks repeatedly, one of her few nervous tics. The mildly tousled appearance was one of Rachel's favorite looks.

Quinn ruffled her hair before shoving her hands deep in her pockets. She fidgeted like a child who had done something bad. The voice that slipped from her lips was small and timid. "Uh…Hi."

Rachel crossed her arms, tilting her head to acknowledge the greeting. "Hi."

Inwardly, Quinn winced. That tone was as cold a tone as she'd ever heard Rachel expel. "Can I come in?"

Rachel wordlessly stepped back, allowing the blonde entrance. Quinn shuffled in, reaching down to greet Hugo.

"Hey, bud."

Hugo sniffed, canting his head and pointedly moving away from Quinn to stand by his owner. Quinn's lips tilted in a wry smirk.

"You too, huh?" Quinn sighed, flopping down on the couch. She turned her gaze to Rachel, still stalwart in her displeasure. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that."

"No, you shouldn't have." Rachel held out her hands, rotating them to check the palms and backs. "Do I have frostbite? It sure feels like I should."

Quinn inclined her head. "I deserved that."

"Quinn, you have to remember I've been in this business just as long as you have," Rachel commented. "I may not be as high-profile as you are, but I am just as much of a professional. I've dealt with the media before. I'm not some green actress who has never had a taste of what the media has to offer."

Quinn surged to her feet. "I'm not questioning your credentials, Rachel, I'm questioning your methods!"

"And I'm telling you that I am handling the press the way I've always handled the press," Rachel countered.

"Rachel, you have to understand where I'm coming from," Quinn entreated. "I'm a private person. In my camp, you just don't talk about anything that doesn't pertain to work."

"And you have to understand where _I'm_ coming from, Quinn," Rachel countered. "In my experience, it has always been easier for me to be upfront about everything. Being forthright with whatever the media wants to know staves off any potential rumors from arising. If the press knows the facts, speculation is kept to a minimum, which is how the most damaging rumors start."

"They can't speculate what they don't know about," Quinn shot back. "And I'd prefer the media doesn't know anything about me."

"So, what then?" Rachel challenged. "Just because I don't do things _your_ way means I do them wrong?"

Quinn started at that, her mouth opening and closing in an attempt to formulate a response. She found, much to her immense displeasure, that she didn't have one. It was certainly not something she had ever considered before, but to be fair, she had never been in a relationship where her significant other also was in a position where she had to deal with the media directly.

Rachel sighed, guiding Quinn down to the couch and sitting beside her. "You have to remember that relationships are about compromise, Quinn," Rachel remarked softly. "I don't know what we are, but I will tell you this: I won't change who I am. Not for you, not for anyone."

Quinn looked down at her hands, slightly ashamed of the implication. "I don't want you to change. I just want…" Quinn sighed in frustration. "I don't know what I want."

"You have to realize that going into this…whatever…between us means you take me for who I am," Rachel asserted. "And I take you for who you are. I know you're slightly closed off, I know you're holding a lot of yourself back for whatever reason, but that's who you are. I accept that, and I'm okay with taking it all little by little until you've given me everything."

Quinn groaned, flopping back on the couch, her hands covering her face. "You make it _really_ hard to stay mad at you," Quinn huffed softly, peeking out at Rachel through her fingers.

"That's not good," Rachel rejoined in an effort to lighten up the mood. "Angry sex is fun."

"You can't talk about the different incarnations of sex when we haven't had it yet," Quinn whined, slapping balled fists into the cushions of the couch.

"Look, I know that when it comes to how open we are in deference to our lives, we have vastly different philosophies," Rachel commented. "We'll find out a way so that both of us are happy when it comes to just how much we're revealing. We just have to find a middle ground."

"I'm sorry," Quinn murmured. "I've just…I don't like putting all of myself out there. It's dangerous when the media has that much power with all that information."

"I understand," Rachel intoned softly. "But remember that I'm not the media. I know there's something you're not telling me, Quinn." Rachel cupped Quinn's cheek, gently brushing back the damp strands from her forehead. "And it seems to really be bothering you. That's okay. I'm very, very patient when need be."

Quinn nearly teared up at the tender touch. "Thanks."

Rachel beamed, pressing a kiss to Quinn's lips. She ran a hand through the tousled blonde locks. "Did you just take a shower?"

"Yeah. I had a nice surf session. It helped clear my head."

"That's kind of hot," Rachel remarked, brightening.

Quinn recognized the look on the brunette's face. "You're gonna sing, aren't you?"

"Mmmm-hmmm," Rachel hummed her agreement. "I told you, my life is a musical. I sing to emphasize important parts. This is the song right before I endlessly and relentlessly tease you…"

"Okay," Quinn dumbly as Rachel's hot breath tickled her ear as she crooned the famous Beach Boys melody.

_Little surfer, little one  
><em>_Made my heart come all undone  
><em>_Do you love me?  
><em>_Do you surfer girl?_

Quinn's breaths came in a ragged uneven cadence as Rachel's lips skimmed down from her ear to her neck. God, Rachel's voice did things to her. The brunette's tongue flicked out to taste skin as Rachel's lips parted and closed over Quinn's pulse point.

"_Shit_, Rachel…"

"Oh, no, Quinn. You can't complain when you teased me so thoroughly earlier."

"Okay…" Quinn could feel her intelligence slipping away with every pass of Rachel's tongue. Inwardly she groaned.

_ Hello? Self Control? Where did you go?_

"You being so dominant, so aggressive…" Rachel moaned. "It was so sexy."

_No, actually, you stay over there. We're content with the hot girl on top of us._

Quinn reached up, one hand winding through dark chocolate locks. She smirked.

"You're really asking for it, aren't you?"

Rachel merely returned the smirk, pointedly palming one of Quinn's breasts. Quinn chuckled, fisting the hair in her grasp and gently guiding Rachel's head back to her lips. Their kisses, deep and searching, quickly escalated to a carnal cadence, lips and tongues desperately seeking to take and give more. Quinn reclined back, pulling Rachel on top of her.

Rachel slithered down, drawing Quinn's shirt up, her tongue stumbling over the dips and bumps of chiseled abdominal muscles. She moved back up, laying her head on Quinn's chest.

"Do you notice we always end up making out on a couch with me straddling you?"

Quinn chuckled. "What about the hot tub?"

"Oh yeah," Rachel hummed. "The hot tub. I was still straddling you in the hot tub though."

"Is this your way of telling me you're a top?"

"Maybe," Rachel drawled coyly. "You know, I _liked_ the hot tub. Much less clothing."

"Geeze, Puck was right," Quinn muttered. "You are a freaking Siren. You even sing…"

"I'm not quite sure how I feel about you and Noah conversing about my seduction prowess," Rachel mused thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on Quinn's stomach. "That seems endlessly disturbing…"

"And what else did he say?" Rachel prompted, leaning down to find what she had found to be Quinn's "special spot," the skin just in front of the curve of Quinn's jaw where her pulse beat in a staccato cadence. As she scraped her teeth over the delicate skin, she delighted in Quinn's sharp intake of breath.

"He wished me luck in resisting you," Quinn answered with a smirk. "He said that you would leave me wondering why I even bother."

Rachel grinned as she tugged Quinn up to a sitting position to wrestle off her shirt, leaving the blonde in just a sports bra. Rachel crossed her arms at her waist, pulling her own tank top off. As Quinn reclined back against the arm, Rachel let her hands wander, loving the feel of bare skin beneath her fingertips.

"And is that true?"

Quinn chuckled, ghosting a kiss to the valley of Rachel's breasts, palms splayed against Rachel's ribs and back.

Their lips connected, moving in the dance that was becoming familiar but no less enthralling. They were beginning to learn the nuances about each other's personalities when it came to their more amorous activities. Rachel found that Quinn loved the chase, loved it when Rachel teased her a bit. Quinn was quickly finding that Rachel liked it a little rough, that displays of strength or dominance never failed to spike arousal in the little brunette.

Quinn used her strength to deftly flip them, pressing Rachel into the cushions. Quinn relished in the tiny whimper, knowing that the weight of her body bearing down on Rachel was driving the little diva wild. Rachel craned her head up, lips searching for Quinn's, a contented sigh rumbling from her throat at the soft, carnal contact. The two women were so wrapped up in one another they didn't heed the latent warning they would soon have company when Santana's voice preceded her into the room.

"Yo, Tiny-licious, we gots to get…_¡Hijo de puta!" _Santana swore loudly as she swung open the door, only to find Quinn and Rachel in a rather compromising and half-naked position. She clapped a hand to her face, turning sharply away, only to smack into the frame and stumble back into the door. Righting herself, Santana blinked rapidly before scrubbing her eyes as Quinn and Rachel fixed themselves.

"What the hell, Berry?! You have a bedroom for a reason!" Santana swatted the air in front of her face as though the movement would erase the image she had walked into. "_¡Joder! _I can't un-see that shit!"

Rachel blushed. "Sorry, San!"

"San, it's only, like fair," Brittany placated. "I mean, we totally christened Ray's trailer before she even got a chance to, like, make out in it."

Santana merely ducked her head down, mumbling in Spanish as she made her way to her and Brittany's room to get ready for their upcoming flight to Missouri for the Super Bowl.

Brittany shrugged and followed her girlfriend, smacking Quinn's upraised hand on the way.

_As I hinted at the beginning, this isn't the end of this chapter; the whole thing was just too massive for one big posting. So you guys get two chapters for the price of one update! Yay, team! The songs used here are "Lullabye" by Billy Joel, "Give in to Me" sung by Garrett Hedlund and Leighton Meester in the film _Country Strong_, and "Surfer Girl" by the Beach Boys._

_And so, I direct you to the second half of Chapter 13…Enjoy!_

_*ISP_


	15. Chapter 13, Part II

_Surprise! Here we have the second half of Chapter 13! Shocked? I know I am. I swear, I had no idea how massive this would become when I first kind of wrote it out. I guess this was to make up for so long between the last two updates._

_Just as a warning, neither CJ nor I are Jewish and are therefore are not well-versed in Judaism practices. We tried to do the best we could with the research we had, but we both apologize if anything is glaringly inaccurate. Please let us know if we need to change anything, we definitely do not wish to offend our Jewish brethren. Thanks!_

_But anyway, here we are with the second half. Enjoy!_

* * *

><p><span>CHAPTER 13<span>

_PART II_

_**Rachel Berry, a hand in each of her fathers', stood at the steps to the Temple as they left morning services and adjourned to the garden area where brunch was always served. She always loved going to prayers, if only because she got to wear her prettiest dresses and got to sing at the top of her lungs.**_

_** Isaac lifted a hand, waving a woman with dark brown hair over. "Sara."**_

_** Rachel watched as a pretty, petite woman made her way over, a young boy at her side. She looked curiously at the boy, taking in his tanned face and sullen eyes. He was fidgeting at the woman's side, clad in a black cut-off shirt with a weird sort of skull on the front, his scrawny little arms poking through the ragged sleeves, and a pair of worn jeans jeans. His eyes kept flicking to Rachel, looking at her curiously. Miles stooped down to Rachel, gesturing to the woman and the boy. "Rachel, this is Sara Puckerman and her son Noah. He's your age."**_

_**Rachel stepped forward, holding out her hand. "Hello, Mrs. Puckerman. It is a pleasure to meet you." **_

"_**Rachel, why don't you and Noah go play?"**_

_**Rachel nodded. "Yes, Daddy." As she and Noah moved away from the adults, Rachel introduced herself properly. "Hello, Noah. I am Rachel Barbra Berry, future Broadway star."**_

_**Noah grunted and stuck a thumb into his chest. "Puck."**_

_**Rachel tilted her head. "Excuse me?"**_

"_**I like Puck better than Noah," Noah corrected. "Puck is awesome. Noah is sissy."**_

_**Rachel frowned. "But Noah is so pretty. Did you know that your name means 'rest' and 'peace'?"**_

_**Noah thought about that for a moment. "No. That's kind of cool my name means something, I guess." Noah seemed to reconsider. "You can call me Noah. But only you…and my Mom."**_

_** "I'm honored." Rachel looked to the top of his head where the spikes were pushed together at the center. "What did you do to your hair?"**_

_** Noah brightened, pointing to his hairstyle. "It's a mohawk! It's supposed to be cool!" Noah frowned, using his palms to sharpen the spike. "I'm supposed to shave off the sides, but my mom won't let me until I get older."**_

_** Rachel surveyed at the curious style, wondering how it stayed up like that. "Can I touch it?"**_

_** "Sure," Noah nodded, ducking his head down. "But be careful." Rachel giggled as she ran a hand over the center strip of spiked hair. It was prickly to her touch. She looked over his shoulder as a tall thin man made his way through the tables.**_

_** "Oh, look, Noah, there's Rabbi Schram!" Rachel lofted a hand to wave her arm at the approaching man.**_

_** "No!" Noah blanched, tugging at her arm. "Don't call him over here!"**_

_** Rachel dropped her hand, frowning at Noah. "Why not?"**_

_** "He's scary." Noah's amber eyes widened as he realized what he had just revealed. "It always seems like he's watching me. Like he knows I'm gonna do something bad."**_

_**Rachel tilted her head. "**_**Do**_** you do anything bad?"**_

"_**No…I mean, I move around a lot, but that stuff is so boring." Noah shrugged. "I can only pay attention when the band goes. They look so cool playing the music and stuff." Noah lifted his arms, rocking on an air guitar. "I like the guitar the best."**_

_**Rachel laughed as he hopped around, dropping to his knees as he strummed his pretend instrument. "My Poppa knows how to play the guitar. Maybe if you ask him, he'll teach you. Then you could join the youth band. That might make service more bearable."**_

"_**Really?" Noah brightened and clambering to his feet. "Man, that would be so cool!" Noah's face fell as he saw Rabbi Schram. "Aw, he's coming over here…" He shot a look to Rachel, ducking his head and kicking at the ground. "And you can't tell anyone. I don't get scared…it's just him."**_

_** Rachel held out her hand, leaning in. "You can hold my hand if you need to."**_

_** Puck's eyes widened, and he looked at Rachel's outstretched palm. Shyly, he nodded and slipped his hand into Rachel's. Rachel smiled widely and Puck grinned bashfully back.**_

_** Rabbi Schram stopped in front of the two kids. He was a tall, wiry man, boasting a head of salt and pepper hair that was slightly thinning. He had a quiet authority about him, punctuated by a pair of dark brown eyes that pierced out from behind a pair of square glasses. "Hello, Noah and Rachel."**_

_** "Hello, Rabbi Schram," both of them chorused.**_

_** He smiled down at Rachel. "Rachel, I heard you singing quite enthusiastically during prayers. I think even God heard you."**_

_** Rachel blushed. "Thank you, Rabbi. I hope to join the youth choir next year. Noah wants to join the youth band, too."**_

_** Rabbi Schram cocked an eyebrow, gazing down at the little troublemaker clinging resolutely to Rachel's hand. "Is that right, Noah?"**_

_** Not trusting himself to speak, Noah merely nodded. Rabbi Schram smiled and patted both on their heads and moved to the next table to greet its occupants.**_

_** "Thanks," Noah mumbled. "That was cool. I didn't feel as weird with you there."**_

_** Rachel beamed. "You're quite welcome, Noah. I'd be happy to do it whenever you need me to."**_

_** "Awesome. Jews stick together." He held out a fist.**_

_** Rachel looked at the offering questioningly.**_

_** "You make a fist too and we bump our knuckles together," Noah explained. "It's like a high-five."**_

_** "Oh!" Rachel complied, daintily tapping Puck's fist with her own.**_

_** "Now, we're friends for life," Noah asserted. "You don't mess with the bonds of Temple Buddies."**_

_** Rachel beamed. "I'd like that."**_

Puck and Rachel's friendship began with a simple gesture in a place only they shared, but it ran deeper than people realized. Even back then, Rachel saw something in Puck, saw something there that people often overlooked. And it turned out that through Rachel's guidance – both directly and indirectly – Puck would become the man he was meant to be. Through Rachel's direction, Puck learned how to treat women, how being a badass came second to being a gentleman, and how he could become more than just a Lima Loser through a solid set of goals and a solid work ethic. In turn, Rachel learned how to cultivate her badass side, how being a diva came second to being a friend, and how she could become more than just that Broadway geek with a little bit of an edge.

There had always been a give-and-take to their friendship, always a reciprocal aspect. But Rachel had always been the most important woman in Puck's life. The fact that she now had to share him was something wholly foreign to her. Honestly, she wasn't sure how she was going to handle that.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Quinn grinned as she rotated her head, treading on the sideline of the Edward Jones Dome in St. Louis, Missouri. Puck had invited all of them out to the final practice before the game, and all of them were quick to accept and were now walking towards the team gathered for now in the endzone.

"Guys, over here!"

Quinn's head snapped over to the call, which came in the form of an unfamiliar voice. The voice wasn't unfamiliar to her other three companions, however, as they all brightened, waving happily.

"David!"

Quinn couldn't help but smile as Rachel scampered forward and threw herself at the massive bear of a man clothed in gray slacks and a light blue dress shirt. Meaty forearms and biceps bulged beneath the sleeves rolled to the man's elbows as he ducked down, catching her over his shoulder, and twirled Rachel around, a wide smile on his round face. Quinn perused him for the barest of moments. He had dropped his matching suit jacket and navy blue tie on the turf to catch the woman draped over his shoulder. An impeccably manicured moustache and goatee sprinkled his chin and upper lip with the barest of facial hair.

Quinn chuckled, sidling up to the man. "Hi, I'm guessing you're David."

"That's Quinn!" Rachel piped up, her voice muffled from behind David's back.

David laughed. "Nice to meet you." Still holding Rachel over his shoulder, he stuck out a hand with a smile. "Dave Karofsky. I'm Puck's agent. I went to school with all of these fools."

Rachel kicked her feet, drawing the attention back to her. "David!" she whined. "Let me down, you big lummox!"

Dave jiggled her up and down. "That's what you get for jumping on me." He smacked her playfully on the ass. "Didn't you learn the last time you tried to catch me unawares and fell?"

They didn't have to see Rachel's face to know she was pouting, and her voice was equally as petulant drifting up from behind Dave. "You should have caught me then. I was lucky I didn't bruise my talent."

"News flash, Tiny Tim. No one quite cares if you bruise your talent as long as you don't _break_ it," Santana quipped wryly. She reached out, smacking Dave on the shoulder. "Hey, Karofsky." She smirked, hands to her hips as she surveyed their company. "Well aren't we just a big gay pride parade…"

Quinn cocked an eyebrow, looking to the big man. "I see you're family?"

Dave rolled his eyes as he nodded. "Nothing is sacred, apparently." He leaned down to press a kiss to the Latina's cheek. "As succinctly blunt as always, Lopez."

Santana chuckled. "Aw, c'mon, Dave. Don't go slinking back into the closet at the sight of a hot blonde!"

He reached out and poked the Latina in the forehead. "Too bad it took you so long to come _out_ of the closet even _with_ the hot blonde."

Santana threw her head back and laughed. "Touché, Mountain Man," she conceded with a grin.

As if on cue, said blonde bounced forward. "Dave!"

Dave stooped down, slinging Brittany over the other shoulder and spinning around. "Ducky!"

Quinn laughed at the clear height difference between the two women in the way their legs dangled down from Dave's shoulder before he ducked down to set both on their feet. Slipping an arm around Rachel, Dave grinned.

"Got a surprise for you."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "A surprise?"

Dave took her by the shoulders, gently turning around. Rachel's eyes widened as she saw her fathers walking towards them, followed by Puck's mother and younger sister. Miles Berry was standing tall beside his husband, moving completely unhindered. The only stiffness came from his right side where he was shot. It was clear he hadn't regained all of his strength and still had limited range of motion at the spot where the bullet was impacted, but he certainly looked much better than he had when they had seen him last.

"Daddy!"

Miles bent down, accepting Rachel's hug, kissing her tenderly. "Hey, baby."

Rachel backed away from the hug, fussing over her father as she looked him over. "What are you doing here? How are you feeling? Are you sure you should have traveled? I've heard that gunshot wounds are notoriously susceptible to infection. I wouldn't want you to contract feverish symptoms or worse, the possibility of an amputation!"

"Rachel, honey, relax." Miles laughed, clasping a large palm over his daughter's mouth. She glared at him from over his pinky.

"I'm fine. Your Auntie Helena cleared me and even got a second opinion from an unbiased third party. I'm at about eighty-percent health right now."

Rachel thrust indignant fists on her hips, stomping a petulant foot as Miles retracted his hand. "Well excuse me, Daddy for being so concerned about your well-being."

Unwilling to subject everyone to another long-winded Rachel Berry rant, Quinn sidled forward, sticking out her hand. "Nice to officially meet you, Mr. Berry."

Miles Berry surveyed her with piercing dark eyes before his face split into a grin that told exactly where Rachel had inherited her own beaming smile. He grasped the offering, shaking strongly with a short nod.

"A pleasure to meet you, Quinn. I'd be honored if you called me Miles. Thank you for taking care of my Star."

Quinn could hear the seriousness in Miles' tone that belied his wide grin. She inclined her head. "She doesn't need me, sir. I'm just helping reign her in every so often."

Miles threw his head back and let out a loud, booming laugh. A long arm snaked out and hugged Quinn to him. Being around all incarnations of the Berry family, Quinn had long ceased being surprised at the easy affection willing to be shared between friends and strangers alike. "Momma said she liked you. I understand why." He winked at her as Rachel scowled, poking Quinn in the side for the mildly disparaging comment.

"I don't appreciate being picked on," Rachel remarked, crossing her arms.

Miles reached out and flicked her protruding bottom lip fondly. "Don't pout, Star," he chided fondly. "The cameras are around; you might get caught showing your not-so-good side."

Immediately, Rachel's face transformed into a more neutral expression, but her eyes still sparkled with her displeasure. Her gathered friends and family merely laughed as they continued on closer to the Chargers' practice.

The group halted at the sideline as the Chargers broke, dispersing to their respective areas, the offense heading to the far endzone with defense staying put. Rachel turned her attention to the practice, her hand firmly ensconced in Miles's as the tall officer chatted with Dave about the season. She quickly found Puck amidst the crush of bodies. Her head tilted as she observed her best friend amidst his teammates, taking in the familiar white helmet emblazoned with the lightening bolt on the side. His amber and gold eyes peered out from the clear visor affixed to the navy blue facemask as he went through the footwork drills, following the brown pigskin of the football in the hands of his coach as it moved to prompt a change in direction. She noticed something different about him, more specifically his helmet. For as long as she had known, he always wore what she believed to be the most standard helmet: a simple round dome with rounded extensions that protected the ear. It certainly wasn't the model he was sporting currently. This new helmet seemed almost sleeker, more contoured, with two oblong squares at the ear-hole rather than a circle.

"Hey, San," Rachel prodded the Latina. "Does Noah look like he's wearing a new helmet?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah." Santana cocked her head. Her eyes found Puck as he worked with the starters, finding the familiar number 69 on the white practice jersey. "He usually wears one with a round ear-hole."

Rachel frowned. "Weird that he changed it…"

She shook off the confusion when Dave turned to address two men in suits approaching them from the side. "Mr. Spencer, Mr. Commissioner," Dave greeted them.

Aaron Spencer sported a broad grin as he shook Dave's hand. "Dave, how's our star looking?"

"He's pumped, sir," Dave answered, nodding out to Puck as he jogged to the opposite sideline, taking a sip of water. Dave turned to the group and introduced everyone, stopping specifically at Quinn and Rachel.

"Rachel Berry and Quinn Lucas, Aaron Spencer, the owner of the Chargers, and Rick Goodson, the Commissioner of the NFL."

The Commissioner smiled, shaking both hands in turn. "Miss Berry, Miss Lucas, a pleasure to meet you both." He turned to Rachel. "Miss Berry, if I would have known you were going to be in attendance, I would have extended an invitation to sing the National Anthem."

Rachel blushed prettily. "Oh, Mr. Commissioner, I'm flattered, but I've shied away from honoring our country until I've perfected my version of Whitney Houston's vaunted rendition."

The Commissioner simply stared, unsure if she was serious or not. He certainly couldn't tell from her wide, beaming smile and big doe eyes. He chuckled shaking his head. "Miss Berry, I'm sure you will bring the house down singing the phone book, but I'll keep that in mind." He chatted with Dave for a few more moments before continuing down the sideline and towards the other end of the stadium.

Dave leaned down to Rachel with a frown. "Uh, Rach, that's not true. You sang at the Yankees' Opening Day last year. You're not serious, are you?"

Rachel snorted and brushed her hair behind her shoulder with a practiced flick of her wrist. "Certainly not, David. I have long resigned myself to the fact that attempting to duplicate Ms. Houston's celebrated performance is an endeavor simply beyond my capabilities. Commissioner Goodson has levied many a fine on Noah for petty indiscretions in what I deem a gross exploitation of the Commissioner's authoritative power." Rachel shrugged. "I simply dislike him and wished him to go away."

As the laughter rang out around her, Rachel shrugged again. What? It was the truth.

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel stood at the curb in front of the restaurant, squaring her shoulders and staring down the entranceway in front of her. The way Rachel was psyching herself up, one would think she was about to perform in front of Barbra Streisand. In a way, the weight of the situation was similar. This would be the first time she met Puck's fiancée Brooklyn. Puck had caught up with them after practice ended and proposed an outing for dinner so that Rachel, Santana, and Brittany could meet Brooklyn. A dinner setting would be fitting, but perhaps he also figured the public atmosphere would deter his three best friends from causing a scene.

Rachel once again fixated on the entranceway. Her eyes were narrowed, piercing into the door in anticipation to what waited to her behind it. In a way, it was like going to battle. There certainly was a lot at stake. Smoothing down her dress, she nodded to her two companions, and they made their way into the establishment.

"There she is," Rachel murmured as they approached Puck and Brooklyn, security around them giving the pair a wide berth to the gawking patrons milling in the lobby.

It was the first time they had all seen Brooklyn up close. She was tall, perhaps an inch or so shorter than Brittany, with a willowy build, all lean arms and legs, and she definitely had a girl-next-door sort vibe about her.

"She's pretty," Santana murmured, taking it Brooklyn's wavy golden hair and light blue eyes. "I'd do her."

Rachel rolled her eyes, appealing to her lithe personal assistant. "Britt?"

Brittany looked at the woman, catlike eyes scanning Brooklyn from head to toe as she interacted with Puck. "Blue."

Rachel considered that for a moment. She had never questioned Brittany's innate ability to read people just based on a few moments of observation, and they had used that ability to implement a system when it came to the women Puck brought to meet them. "Gold," naturally meant the woman was a gold-digger, only after Puck for his multi-million dollar contract. If a woman was "red" it meant that their relationship was purely sexual. "Green" signified the woman would probably be envious of and threatened by the trio's relationship with Puck, and "black" meant they had to get Puck out of the woman's clutches as fast as they could. The fact that Brittany labeled Brooklyn "blue" meant that as far as Brittany's initial read went – and they were usually _hauntingly_ accurate – she could find nothing glaringly wrong with Brooklyn.

Rachel made her own assessment as they drew closer. She watched Brooklyn's body language and how the woman interacted with Puck. Brooklyn was standing close, but not too close in deference to their public setting. Puck had an arm around her, his palm curled against the crook of her neck, his thumb rubbing against the nape. She leaned into him with a small smile and fixed the collar of his shirt, whispering something to him that made him smile. Puck shook his head with a laugh and craned his neck downward to accept the kiss on his cheek.

Rachel sighed, smoothing the skirt of her dress down. "Alright, ladies." She squared her shoulders. "Let's do this." She raised her voice, calling out to Puck.

"Noah!"

Puck looked up with a wide grin, greeting his three best friends with hugs and kisses. Moving back to Brooklyn, he placed an arm around her. "Guys, this is Brooklyn Ross, my fiancée."

As three pairs of eyes snapped to her, Brooklyn couldn't help but gulp. That was intimidating. She looked at the three women, all of who played such an important role in her fiancé's life. These were the women responsible for the man she agreed to marry.

It was easy to see how the group dynamic worked. Santana was the first person she saw, protectively placed in front of the other two women. Eyes covertly scanning the area for any sign of trouble in their immediate vicinity, Santana paved the way for her companions. Right away, Brooklyn sensed a powerful aura about the Latina, easy to see in how Santana carried herself with shoulders drawn back and her chin tilted upward. Santana was an effortless beauty, however, wielding her weapon of almost natural sensuality and pure sexuality that radiated from every pore of her body from the gentle sway of her hips to the casual flick of her hair.

The blonde to the left seemed to be staring vacantly out into space, but Puck had warned her against underestimating one Brittany Susan Pierce. He said that Brittany could get a scarily accurate read on any person within seconds of meeting them. He also warned against insulting Brittany's intelligence. He swore that despite her sometimes-vapid comments, she was probably some sort of Mensa genius who conveyed her intelligence through a paradox of random yet terrifyingly true analogies and valley girl vernacular. To disregard Brittany, Puck remarked, was to sign their relationship death warrant. Period.

Brooklyn's gaze settled on the tiny brunette in the center, flanked by Brittany to the left and Santana to the right. The aggressive Latina may have been the loudest, the most brash, and certainly the most physical presence between the three, Rachel was clearly the driving force behind the group dynamic, the one the other two turned to for the final decision. In high school, Santana may have been Sue's enforcer, the fearsome, epitomized personification of the Sue Sylvester's ruthless regime, but unconsciously, the squad fell in behind Rachel and her unwavering confidence; she was the one they looked to for instruction. Brooklyn remembered what Sara Puckerman had said to her when she had met the woman for the first time:

_**Brooklyn drew away from the tight hug, a bright smile on her face as she released Sara Puckerman. "Your blessing means so much to me."**_

_**Sara smiled, her dark eyes shining with pride, hands clasped over her chest. She had waited so long for her Noah to find his match. For as much as she desperately wished Noah and Rachel would have worked out way back in high school, she was very much happy with Noah's choice in Brooklyn. **_

"_**I'm happy to give it," she answered. "Have you met the girls yet?"**_

_**Brooklyn shook her head, fiddling with her engagement ring. She had heard about Puck's three best friends, how important they were to him. Anecdotes about "San", "Ducky", and "Star" littered their conversations as he explained their bond. There were no three people more significant to him, had no bigger impact on him than Santana, Brittany, and Rachel. That importance was evident in the distinct honor Rachel held, outside of Puck's immediate family of course, that allowed her to call Puck by his much-disliked first name. **_

"_**Oh, my dear," Sara chuckled, patting Brooklyn on the arm, "I may have raised Noah, but Rachel made him into the man he is. My blessing means nothing if you don't win her over."**_

She studied that final member of the group, indisputably the most important. For someone so tiny, Rachel Berry had such magnetism about her. The moment the three women entered the restaurant, every single eye had been drawn to her like a beacon. She was just as tiny as Puck had described, barely eclipsing five feet, but her aura, her presence, her _force_ was so much larger than life. Rachel Berry wasn't the most conventional beauty, but the unconventional features seemed to suit her perfectly, and she carried such an air of confidence about her that it made her so captivating and quite intimidating if Brooklyn were being honest.

Rachel crossed her arms, forcing a tight smile one her face. She stuck out a hand. "Brooklyn, so nice to meet you. I would say I've heard a lot about you but someone," she leveled a sharp look to Puck, "kept you very close to the chest."

Brooklyn took the delicate hand gracefully, not surprised at the strength in Rachel's grip. "It's nice to meet you too. I'm glad we could finally get together."

Rachel didn't respond at that, merely nodding. She looked at the gathered party, noting that no one was making any move towards the dining area. "Are we all here?"

"We're waiting for one more," Puck answered. His eyes flew over Rachel's shoulder as he lifted up a hand. "Hey, Q! Right on time!"

Rachel whirled, eyes snapping towards the entrance. Sure enough, the sleek blonde head of her costar was bobbing through the crowd in their direction. Quinn grinned as she came to a stop beside their party. "Hi, sorry to crash, but Puck insisted." She held out a hand. "Quinn Lucas."

Brooklyn's eyes had widened at the sight of the television star, and she jolted forward to grab Quinn's offering eagerly. "Hi," she breathed out. "Wow…I'm…just…_hi_."

Rachel frowned, eyes narrowed as she fixated on her costar. "Quinn? Why are you here?"

Quinn shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Puck asked me to regulate."

"Regulate what, exactly?" Santana asked with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.

Quinn smirked, gesturing with a finger. "You three."

For such a fearsome, intimidating force on the football field, Puck was sure quick to cower when two glares were shot his way from two equally incensed brunettes. He didn't take much comfort in the wry smirk that appeared on Brittany's face either.

"Explain," Rachel drawled, clearly not amused.

"Look, I love you guys, but you get all rabid dog-like when girls come around and you have to meet them." Puck pointed at Brittany. "Even Ducky gets fierce, and she's…_Ducky_." His eyes narrowed. "Don't think I don't remember you guys had Desiree DeGrande running for the hills within five minutes of meeting her back in college."

"That's because she had an eye on your prospective multi-million dollar contract and accompanying signing bonus," Santana remarked nonchalantly inspecting her nails.

"And she was wearing a Texas A&M shirt when we first met her," Brittany commented absently. "Not cool. The maroon doesn't go well with orange."

Rachel leveled Puck with a stare, eyes narrowing and brows drawing slightly together. "Sit."

Much to his everlasting chagrin, Puck's legs automatically bent, his butt plopping firmly into the cushioned seat of their table.

Brooklyn's eyes widened as she slid in beside him. "Wow, you totally have to teach me how to do that."

Rachel didn't answer, merely settling down into a seat across from Brooklyn. She returned her attention to Puck. "So, since we know absolutely nothing about her aside from the fact that you're marrying her, why don't you start with the basics?"

"She's Brianna's older sister," Puck offered as an explanation, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Bri introduced us."

Rachel nodded in recognition. They had met the Charger Girl before, strangely a good friend of Puck's who was married to an agent in David's firm. They paused to give their attentive waiter their drink and food orders before turning their attention to the conversation at hand.

Santana started them off, leveling Brooklyn with a look. "So, Brooklyn, what do you do?"

"I'm a writer," Brooklyn answered. "Novels, biographies, mostly non-fiction stuff."

"Interesting. Anything with pictures?"

Brooklyn shook her head. "Not really, just photographs. I deal mostly with historical people, not exactly the most exciting stuff. I've done the occasional famous person, but more of the Prince William variety than like Madonna."

"So nothing I probably have read," Santana drawled.

Again, Brooklyn shook her head. "Probably not unless you're interested in General George Armstrong Custer and his rather controversial legacy that culminated in 'Custer's Last Stand' at the Battle of Little Bighorn." Brooklyn frowned thoughtfully. "The name 'Custer's Last Stand' is actually quite ironic. The general wasn't the only Custer to die in the fighting. His brothers Thomas and Boston, his brother-in-law James Calhoun, and his nephew Autie Reed also died during that battle."

Santana blinked. "Ah…yeah, no."

"How'd you get into something like that?" Brittany asked.

"Well, I've always been a bit of a history geek," Brooklyn admitted. "I got my Master's degree in history, and I've always liked writing so…" She shrugged. "It kind of evolved from there. My first book was on President Kennedy. Incidentally, until President Kennedy's assassination, it was not considered a federal crime to kill the president."

Brooklyn saw the wide-eyed looks directed her way and blushed. "Sorry, I tend to spew random historical facts. I can't help it most of the time."

Puck beamed, leaning over to kiss Brooklyn's cheek. "She's like Google, but better!" He nudged Brooklyn. "Tell them another."

Brooklyn blushed again under the praise. "Uh, sure…how about another one about the military, since, you know," she gestured to Quinn and Rachel, "you two are doing that Chris Keller military film?" She cleared her throat. "Many historians have differing views about the origins of the modern military salute, but some believe that it evolved from medieval times when knights would raise their visors with their right hands when meeting another knight."

Puck smiled widely, slinging an arm around his fiancée and squeezing her shoulder lovingly. "Isn't that awesome? I swear, she's knows everything! I'll never have to pick up a book again."

"You're like super smart," Brittany commented. "Where did you go to college?" she asked. "We were all in New York." She pointed to each woman in turn, "Ray was Tisch, San was NYU, and I was Julliard."

"Princeton," Brooklyn answered.

"What the fuck are you doing with numbnuts over there?!" The question flew out of Santana's mouth before she could stop it.

"Hey!" Puck puffed up defensively, only to shrink back down at the two glares directed his way.

Brooklyn laughed, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "Well, he's kind of cute, so I guess that makes up for it."

Santana took a sip of her wine. "Why Princeton?"

"Well, I was born in Lake Crystal, Minnesota," Brooklyn answered. "It's a really small town about an hour and a half away from Minneapolis, so I definitely felt stifled. I had to get out of there. I had a pretty good pick of places, but Princeton was as far as I could get."

"We can sympathize with that," Santana spoke up for the whole group. "Lima wasn't exactly a metropolis."

As the conversation continued, Puck whirled to Quinn sitting on his other side. "What the hell, dude?" Puck hissed. "You're supposed to be regulating!"

"Regulating what?" Quinn muttered. "So far, they're asking pretty basic questions."

"You just don't want to get on Rachel's bad side," Puck accused with a sharp glare.

"Self-preservation, Puckerman," Quinn retorted, shoving him with her forearm. "You're not the one I enjoy kissing on a regular basis."

Puck barked out a laugh. "Haven't you heard, Lucas? I've already got myself a hot blonde."

Quinn shook her head with a smirk as Santana continued their interrogation. "So you and Puck met through Brianna?"

Brooklyn nodded. "I had been in Pennsylvania working and recently moved to San Diego for a change of scenery. Bri got me tickets and after the game, she introduced me to the players. Puck kinda made an impression." She shot a smile to her fiancé. "Mostly because he was a moron."

Brittany nodded sagely. "He did his 'Fuck a Puck' dance, didn't he?"

Brooklyn giggled, remembering the rather ridiculous form of a mating dance Puck often utilized. It was hard to explain, but needless to day, it involved a lot of hip gyrations.

"He started that way back in middle school when he started swearing and realized 'fuck' rhymed with 'Puck' and it kind of went from there." Santana shot him a look. "Kinda says a lot when he's still using it in his twenties." She returned her attention to Brooklyn. "So I'm guessing you're a football fan if you're willing to suffer through his mood swings during the season?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "Uh, I mean, football's okay, but I watch it mostly for Puck. Hockey's more my cup of tea. It's pretty big in Minnesota, with the U and the Miracle team and all that." Brooklyn brightened. "By the way, the first Stanley Cup was only seven inches tall."

Santana's eyes bulged. "What do you mean it's only 'okay?' It's, like, un-American to not like football."

"I guess, it's pretty tame in my eyes," Brooklyn answered. "Football's cool, but hockey's constant action. Nothing's better than seeing two players drop the gloves."

"Guys get hit all the time in football," Santana countered.

"Yeah, but you never see a good _fight_," Brooklyn reasoned. "Football players shove and jaw, but punches are very rarely thrown. You know, a lot of things would be solved if the guys just drop their gloves and have at it like they do in hockey. Let them swing it out for a few minutes then break it up when someone hits the ice…or turf, I guess."

Santana wrinkled her nose. "You don't have any psycho violent tendencies that we should know about, do you?"

"Oh, no, not at all!" Brooklyn shrugged sheepishly. "It's just with sports. And as long as they're sufficiently protected."

Rachel had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the entire exchange, merely observing the conversation. It was slightly unnerving. Her first words were directed to Puck. "Noah, was that a new helmet I saw you sporting during practice today?"

Puck swallowed his bite, nodding in response. "Uh, yeah. Changed it before we left."

Automatically, Rachel's eyebrow raised skyward. Puck, like many athletes, was extremely superstitious, and a main one had always been a reluctance to change his helmet. It was a superstition that dated back to high school and continued through his playing career. Once he had been issued a helmet, it stayed with him through all four years, without fail. If it somehow became unsafe to use, his new one went through a rigorous ritual to make it "worthy" – whatever that meant – but that rarely ever happened. Rachel had long ago learned never to question Puck's rather peculiar quirks when it came to athletic competition.

"I made him," Brooklyn piped up. "My older brother played college ball. He was never good enough to play the pros, but he played more to be able to go to school. After he left school, we found out he was suffering from a neurodegenerative disease that came from the concussions he sustained while playing. They said part of the reason he suffered so many concussions was because the helmet he was using wasn't as protected against brain injury as other brands."

"That's rough," Santana commented. "And you think the same thing is gonna happen to Puck?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "I mean, it's a possibility. There's no shortage of roughness in the game. Puck does most of the hitting, but that doesn't make him any less susceptible to a concussion."

"But why now?" Santana continued.

"I've been at him for awhile to change it," Brooklyn revealed. "I would never stop him from playing, but I just want him to be safe. When he proposed properly," Brooklyn shot a wry glance to her fiancée, "it was the one condition I had before accepting."

Puck shrugged, uncomfortable with the attention fixated on him. "Being safer doesn't make me any less of a badass. The new helmet looks cooler, anyway. Patrick Willis wears the same one."

"Yeah, the fact that it keeps your brain from being scrambled like an egg has _absolutely_ nothing to do with it," Santana drawled.

xxx-xxx-xxx

As dinner wore down to its natural end, dishes cleared and the check paid, leaving the tables occupants with just lingering sips of alcohol, Rachel turned to Puck gesturing with a hitch of her head.

"Noah?" Rachel's tone, as polite as ever, said everything in that single mention of his name. She brokered no room for argument, and Puck rose without question, ushering the three girls with him, leaving Rachel and Brooklyn alone.

Rachel didn't speak for a long moment, merely lifting her wine glass to her lips, taking a sip as she studied the blonde.

"I am going to be frank with you," Rachel began. "I admit to being rather unimpressed at Noah's rather spontaneous proposal. The fact that Noah proposed to you before bringing you to meet us means either one of two things: First, that he is so enamored with you he didn't want to risk us scaring you off, or second, that he just wasn't thinking, which he is wont to do." Rachel straightened. "Due to the circumstances of your proposal, I'm inclined to believe the latter of the two."

As Brooklyn opened her mouth to respond, Rachel held up a hand. "However, I know Noah better than even his own mother – no disrespect to Sara, of course. She is just as quick to claim the same – and I know that when it comes to love, he is very careful to whom he commits himself."

Brooklyn wisely didn't respond, merely waiting for Rachel to finish.

"I have no questions towards your character," Rachel continued. "You are quite unlike many of the women that have come before you. You are mature, obviously very intelligent, and hold a steady job that provides you with financial self-sufficiency. However, I have witnessed even the most level-headed, confident people fall prey to petty bouts of jealousy."

Brooklyn nodded, seeing where the conversation was going, a notion only affirmed with Rachel's next words.

"You know of the relationship Santana, Brittany, and I share with him. I have no doubt he has explicated exactly what we mean to him." Rachel fixed a significant look to the blonde. "I'm even more certain that he has enlightened you to the extent of the bond he and I share with one another."

"'The bonds of Temple Buddies runs deep,'" Brooklyn recited.

"Yes," Rachel murmured fondly of the doctrine Puck installed as a child concerning the scope of the beginning of their friendship. Her eyes leveled a meaningful gaze at Brooklyn, peeling back the layers of the blonde with a simple look. "What do you see when you look at Noah?"

Brooklyn frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"If someone were to ask you to describe Noah, how would you respond?" Rachel edified.

Brooklyn seemed a bit thrown at the question, but she recovered quickly. A thoughtful expression crossed her pretty features, and her teeth snagged a corner of her bottom lip.

"You know, I don't think anyone has asked me that before," Brooklyn mused softly. She seemed to think, carefully crafting her answer.

"Well, he's an idiot," Brooklyn began with a fond smile. "That's for sure. He finds humor in the stupidest things, when he's not in front of a camera, he doesn't think before he speaks, he swears way too much to expose him to polite company, sex is constantly on his mind; he has no filter when it comes to it, and sometimes I question if he's really matured the way he's supposed to when he doesn't stop giggling at fart jokes…"

Rachel kept her face straight, letting Brooklyn continue to talk. She still fought down a smile. She certainly couldn't argue with that analysis; it was actually very much true. Noah Puckerman had matured through the years…but only just.

"But he's also a sweetheart and even when you're mad at him, you can't be for very long. He's like that little kid who's a bit of a rascal and a bit of a troublemaker, but you only get exasperated at him because he's so adorable when he's getting into trouble. Plus, he always gets that cute look on his face when you catch him."

Rachel laughed at that. She knew exactly what Brooklyn was talking about. When Puck got caught with his proverbial hand in the cookie jar, which was often, he sported a very distinct expression, knowing he was in trouble. His eyes got wide, his eyebrows drew together, and his mouth formed a small 'O' as he curled into himself as though making his body as small as possible would diminish his chances of being punished.

"He's strangely perceptive, too and he's very good about doing the little romantic things. I swear he has like ADD or something because he has the attention span of a five year-old, but when I don't think he's listening, he really is, and he never stops surprising me with how much he actually does pay attention." Brooklyn looked down at her hands, twirling the diamond ring around her finger. "When you're with him, you know you're safe because he's there, and he would never let anything happen to you. And when he looks at you…you're the only one."

Brooklyn looked at the woman across from her. "I know you two are close. I get what you mean to each other, really, I do. I'd never do anything to jeopardize that. If anything, I just want to know I have a place in the midst of all that."

For the first time, Rachel smiled at Brooklyn, and the blonde could definitely see what drew people to the tiny diva. It was illuminating, warming her to the toes. Rachel reached out, placing a hand over Brooklyn's. "Looks like we're going to have to make a place for you."

Brooklyn returned the smile. "Thanks."

"You know, Noah's faith is very important to him. It's one of the things in which he takes a substantial amount of pride," Rachel hedged. "Might I inquire towards your religious preferences?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "I'm Catholic, but I'm pretty bad when it goes to actually attending church, just the Easter and Catholic masses." She looked hesitantly over at the other woman. "I do want to know more about Judaism. Maybe you could teach me?"

Rachel smiled with a nod. "I'd like that." She studied Brooklyn, satisfied with what she was able to glean from the blonde and fell victim to her more basic instincts. "May I see the ring?"

Brooklyn laughed as the once wholly intimidating force that was Rachel Berry regressed to an eager girl excited about her best friend's prospective wedding. Brooklyn extending her left hand, and Rachel brought the ring into the light with a dreamy sigh. The design itself was simple: a large round-cut diamond flanked three smaller diamonds, each set within a square, coin-cut frame embedded in the shoulders of the flat platinum band. It wasn't extraneous, as some would expect a superstar of Puck's caliber to purchase, but it suited Brooklyn perfectly.

"It's absolutely gorgeous!" Rachel giggled, shaking her head. "Who knew Noah would be so proficient in choosing a ring?"

Brooklyn agreed with a laugh and a nod. "Especially when the only jewelry I've ever seen him wear are those yarn friendship bracelets."

Rachel smiled. "I gave him one when we were kids. He loved it so much he made me keep making them whenever the last one got so old it would fall off." Rachel squeezed Brooklyn's hand in reassurance. "It may be the only jewelry he wears for now, but he'll be wearing something else soon, and I'm pretty sure his wedding band will trump any friendship bracelet I've ever given him."

The two women shared a moment before Brooklyn ventured another question.

"So, uh, do you give your blessing? Because Mrs. Puckerman – Sara," Brooklyn corrected herself, "said that your blessing trumps all."

Rachel laughed, laying a hand over her chest. "Oh, she would say that." Rachel composed herself, turning fully to face Brooklyn.

"Yes. I give you my blessing." Rachel reached out, drawing the taller blonde into a tender hug. "I'm happy he found you."

Brooklyn smiled. Suddenly, her expression grew pensive, and a flash of white teeth appeared as she snagged her bottom lip, drawing it into her mouth. "Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"And feel free to ignore the question if you're uncomfortable answering," Brooklyn hedged. "There's something going on between you and Quinn, isn't there?"

"Caught that, did you?" Rachel mused.

Brooklyn blushed, shrugging sheepishly. "You guys are kind of obvious…"

"Or you're acutely perceptive," Rachel countered.

"Maybe," Brooklyn conceded. "But I guess there's something different about the way she looks at you than if she was looking at, say, Puck or Santana. It's sweet." Brooklyn smiled. "I do have to be honest with you, though," she confessed. "I have, like, the hugest girl crush on Quinn…I've been restraining myself from completely fangirling in her presence the entire time."

Rachel threw her head back and laughed. She reached out, patting Brooklyn on the hand. "Oh, honey, I don't blame you. Not in the slightest."

xxx-xxx-xxx

As Brooklyn and Rachel exited the restaurant, both women were amused to find Puck pacing in front of a seated Quinn, Brittany, and Santana and mumbling to himself, running his hands agitatedly through his hair. The three women watched him with amusement. Brittany held out a hand to placate him, pointing back to the direction from where Rachel and Brooklyn were approaching.

"Oh, thank God." He looked Brooklyn up and down. "You're all in one piece."

"I resent that," Rachel drawled wryly.

Puck turned his attention to Rachel. He slung an arm around her neck and hitched his head. "You and I are gonna take a walk." This time, he was the one who brokered no room for argument as he rotated her around and steered her towards the small park adjacent to the restaurant.

"But what about…?" Rachel gestured back to Brooklyn. She had to admit it was a little funny to see the tall blonde look so flustered while talking to Quinn.

"I think she's cool with Ducky, Satan, and Q," Puck answered. "You and I need to talk."

He directed them to a small bench and plopped down, patting his lap. She sunk down and curled into him.

"What's up, Star?" He asked. "What's wrong? Why were you so hostile?"

Rachel shook her head.

Puck smirked. "You're not still hot and bothered for the Puckerone, right? I mean, I don't blame you. I'll never stop being a hot piece of ass."

Rachel's head shot up, and she glared at him. "Idiot."

Puck laughed, ruffling her hair. "Seriously, though. I mean, it's not like you've still got your lady boner for me, right?"

"Noah," Rachel sighed. "You and I…we were explosive and fiery, but we were never meant to be forever. I love you with every bit of my heart, but I'm not in love with you and I know you're not in love with me."

Puck chuckled, resting his chin on her head. "Yeah, I know. It was just weird, you know? I can't remember any girl you've actually liked that I've brought to meet you guys, but you've never been so openly hostile to anyone in your life."

"That's because none of the girls in the past were particularly good choices, Noah," Rachel scolded. She sighed heavily again. "I could tell Brooklyn was different, and I was scared that I was no longer going to be your best girl," she murmured, snuggling into his chest. Rachel sniffled as she was engulfed by the familiar scent of his cologne. Puck had been her best friend for as long as she could remember. The bond she shared with him was different than the one she shared with Santana and Brittany. No disrespect to her two other friends – she especially cherished their friendship – but she and Puck had always meant, for lack of a better word, more.

"Aw, come on, Star. Don't be like that. You'll always be my best girl," Puck offered, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Rachel smiled sadly. "Oh, that's sweet, Noah, but I have resigned myself to the fact I'll have to share that title with Brooklyn and any mini-Pucks."

Puck nodded, a small smile on his face. "It doesn't change things, you know," he commented. "You're always gonna my best friend. I want you to stand up for me. I don't care what anyone says, I want you right beside me at the wedding as my best…" he thought about the correct terminology. "Woman?"

Rachel shrugged. "I'm not sure of the parlance used as it would be a rather unconventional set of circumstances, but I'd be honored nonetheless." She beamed, wrapping Puck in a hug. A thought occurred to her and she drew back and wrinkled her nose. "Will I have to wear a tuxedo? Quinn may be able to pull off one, but I don't believe such an ensemble will be particularly flattering to my figure."

Puck laughed. "No, we'll figure something out, I promise." He turned serious again. "I mean it though, Rachel. Anytime you need Puckzilla, I'm so there, no questions asked."

"I know," Rachel sighed. "I'll just have to get used to another woman in your life." She tried very hard not to sound too petulant.

"That's generous of you," he teased, poking her side. "You never did share well."

Rachel snorted, batting his hand away. "Yeah, well, I've never felt threatened by your past girlfriends. I knew exactly where I stood compared to them."

Puck grinned fondly, adjusting his hold around her. "They never held a candle to you."

"I really do like Brooklyn, Noah," Rachel informed him. "She's a wonderful woman and a great complement to you. I know you want my blessing, and I'm happy to give it."

Puck beamed, and Rachel couldn't help but feel a pang in her heart. She had never seen him so happy. He hugged her tight. "Thanks, babe."

Rachel smiled. "Of course, Noah. I just want what's best for you. I see that Brooklyn is just that."

He offered out a fist. "JBs for life?"

Rachel giggled, tapping his fist with hers and throwing her arms around his neck. She drew back and cupped his face, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips. It was chaste and affectionate, but completely and totally innocent, an expression of the depth of their platonic love. Puck would probably be the only man aside from her fathers she would truly love unconditionally. She knew he reciprocated that sentiment, but it wasn't enough for him. He deserved better than just that fierce platonic love they shared. He needed romance and passion and lust; he needed that all-encompassing sort of love. Brooklyn could give him that. That sort of love had eluded them, but he found it in Brooklyn. Rachel was okay with that.

She ran a hand lovingly over his hair, starting to grow back from when he shaved off his faux-hawk during the AFC Championship game. "I love you, Noah."

He wrapped strong arms around her, securing her in a firm embrace. "I love you too, Rachel."

They stayed there for a moment before rising again and returning to their friends. Puck immediately went to Brooklyn and slung an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his embrace. Rachel watched their interaction and saw how Brooklyn unconsciously leaned into him, her face lighting up as she affectionately cupped his cheek and stretched up on her tiptoes for a kiss. They looked right together, Rachel observed. Right in a way that she had never achieved with Puck.

A thought occurred to her in that moment: She wanted something like that. That easy affection, that irresistible pull that compelled her to gravitate to her chosen person.

Rachel jumped as she felt a hand slide onto her shoulder, and she lofted her gaze to lock on a pair of twinkling hazel eyes, to find her body snuggled into Quinn Lucas' side. She glanced around at her surroundings. No one else had moved, but she had somehow meandered unconsciously to Quinn…

_Oh_…

xxx-xxx-xxx

* * *

><p><strong>NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY, NOAH!<strong>

_Noah Puckerman caused a stir in the wake of his AFC Championship win by proposing to girlfriend Brooklyn Ross after the game, but it seems he may be causing an even greater stir with longtime friend and one-time love, Rachel Berry. Sources spotted the luscious linebacker exchange this kiss with the Broadway-turned-Hollywood star outside of a St. Louis restaurant with Ross mere feet away with Berry's entourage, including _Duty and Honor_ costar Quinn Lucas. _

_Perhaps fidelity is not in the cards for this pair. Naughty, naughty, Noah Puckerman._

* * *

><p>Rachel laughed as she read over the article, noting the ridiculousness behind it. She rooted around her bag for her phone, immediately sending a tweet to Puck with a link to the article.<p>

**MsRachelBerry  
><strong>*Gasp* _NoahPuckerman69_ They're onto us! Hurry and run away with me before _MrsHitManBR_ catches wind!

She wasn't surprised when he tweeted back almost just as fast.

**NoahPuckerman69  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry _Too late. _MrsHitManBR_ put me in time out for being a bad boy =(

**MrsHitManBR  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry_ Lol, you hussy! Lull me into complacency with friendship and steal my man?! =P

**MsRachelBerry  
><strong>_MrsHitManBR_ Bwahahaha! My evil plot has come to life!

**ItzSantanaBitch  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry MrsHitManBR_ You're both wrong! If _NoahPuckerman69_ were stepping out with someone, it would be ME! xD

**TheRealBrittanySPierce  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry MrsHitManBR NoahPuckerman69 ItzSantanaBitch_ But San, what about me?

**ItzSantanaBitch  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry MrsHitManBR NoahPuckerman69 TheRealBrittanySPierce_ Just kidding, baby, promise. It's always just you!

**MrsHitManBR  
><strong>_TheRealBrittanySPierce ItzSantanaBitch_ Whipped!

**NoahPuckerman69  
><strong>_TheRealBrittanySPierce ItzSantanaBitch_ Waaaa-pssssh!

**MsRachelBerry  
><strong>_TheRealBrittanySPierce ItzSantanaBitch_ Careful, San. Your whipped side is showing…

**ItzSantanaBitch  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry NoahPuckerman69 MrsHitManBR TheRealBrittanySPierce_ SHADDUP ALL OF YOU!

**TheRealBrittanySPierce  
><strong>_MsRachelBerry MrsHitManBR NoahPuckerman69 ItzSantanaBitch_ Sanny… =(

**ItzSantanaBitch  
><strong>_TheRealBrittanySPierce_ Not you, B!

**QuinnLucas  
><strong>_ItzSantanaBitch TheRealBrittanySPierce_ Aaaaand…case closed.

**ItzSantanaBitch  
><strong>_QuinnLucas TheRealBrittanySPierce_ Where the hell did you come from, beezy? Lol.

**TheRealBrittanySPierce  
><strong>_QuinnLucas ItzSantanaBitch _Hi, Quinn!

Well, Rachel mused, if Brooklyn could have such a good humor about the mess the media tended to dump on their doorstep, perhaps she really was perfect for Noah.

xxx-xxx-xxx

The Puckerman contingent occupying one of the skyboxes in the Edward Jones Dome stood huddled at the window affording a few of the field below where the New York Football Giants had one play and just over forty seconds to get the ball over midfield and into field goal range. Rachel stood flanked by the rest of Puck's friends and family. This was a redeeming moment for Puck, a stringent 'fuck you, thank you very much' to anyone who thought he would never amount more to the disparaging stigma of a Lima Loser, and the final play came down to him and his stringent defense.

Throughout the game, Puck had played like a man possessed. If there was a gap, he was busting through it to disrupt the play, harass the quarterback, wrap up the running back, or cause general havoc to the Giants offense. If someone had managed to squeak by the defensive line, he was hot on his heels, chasing him down, and the Giants quarterback Evan Marshall had stayed away from slant passes that would bring his receivers in Puck's direction, and the electric Giants running game had been absolutely stifled by the Chargers' front seven.

* * *

><p><em>Marshall, inside handoff…Whoa-ho-ho!<em>

The group in the box whooped as Puck crashed through the gap in the defensive line and drove the running back into the turf before he even had a chance to take a step.

_Ouch_…

They looked up to the big screen where the network replayed the hit. The color commentator was drawing circles and lines over the screen:

_Look at this. Classic Hit Man, beautifully executed. Puckerman in the run blitz, blows through the line, not even close to being blocked, and absolutely destroys the back._

The stadium exploded as Puck scrambled up, dropping to the knee and slashing the air as he denied the run play with authority.

* * *

><p>But the game wasn't without its fair share of scares. The Puckerman box had gotten quite a shock when Puck had been absolutely flattened following an interception return.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Marshall drops back, Puckerman is there! Snatches the ball out of the air. Puckerman on the move…Oh! Absolutely pummeled, and the Hit Man is down.<em>

He lay spread-eagle on the turf, following a hit that had folded him in half upon impact, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He wasn't moving save for that. For a few tense, moments, nothing happened as the training staff crouched over him, questioning him intently. Finally, he stretched a hand up, grasping the trainer's hand and hauled himself up.

"He's getting up," Rachel breathed out.

Puck reached up to take off his helmet, walking off on his own power to a roar from the crowd. He went to the sideline and took a seat, talking to the trainers.

_News from the sideline is that Chargers linebacker Noah Puckerman is fine. They've run extensive tests to make sure he isn't exhibiting signs of a concussion, and he's okay. He's alert, aware, and maybe just a little ticked off. "Just got the wind knocked out of me," the Hit Man commented. "Just a little taste of my own medicine."_

Rachel's eyes found Brooklyn's across the box. They shared a significant look, one of complete understanding and solidarity. It was obvious the conversation they had shared during dinner resonated, and Rachel had never been more thankful for another woman in Puck's life until that moment.

* * *

><p>The Chargers offense had been on fire with quarterback Drake Benson at the helm, the surefire MVP, but Puck was certainly making a case for himself when he collected his second interception of the night.<p>

_Marshall drops back, looks left, looks right, flushed out of the pocket, has to hurry the throw…TIPPED! Puckerman has it, and it's off to the races. Big block up front by Graham! Puckerman cuts to the inside…HE'S GOT ROOM TO RUN! THIRTY…TWENTY…TEN…FIFTEEN…SAY GOODBYE! TOUCHDOWN, CHARGERS!_

* * *

><p>But now, here in the fourth quarter of a back and fourth game, with the Chargers clinging to a precarious 35-34 lead, once again, the game came down to Puck and the Chargers defense to stop one of the top quarterbacks in the league.<p>

_Third and ten. The Giants need to get over midfield to just be in kicking range. Evan Marshall in the shotgun, pointing out Puckerman, they've got their eye on him. Empty backfield. The snap, Marshall looking…the pocket collapsing…MARSHALL ROLLING OUT, PUMPS…DEFENDERS DON'T BITE…HE'S GOT NOWHERE TO GO, PUCKERMAN SHEDS THE BLOCK, GIVING CHASE, MARSHALL TOWARDS THE SIDELINE, TRYING TO GET OUT OF BOUNDS…PUCKERMAN'S GOT HIM! WRAPS HIM AROUND THE ANKLES…THAT'S IT! TIME HAS EXPIRED! CHARGERS WIN, CHARGERS WIN!_

Complete and utter chaos was the only description fitting for what happened as soon as Evan Marshall's knees hit the turf of the Dome. Puck scrambled up from where he had tackled the Giants quarterback, rushing towards the team bench where he was mobbed by his fellow teammates, already sporting t-shirts and hats proclaiming them Super Bowl champions.

Rachel turned as a security team appeared to usher them down to the field, quick to get down and celebrate with Puck. Once at field-level, Brooklyn was the first to reach Puck, questioning him anxiously before he nodded with a smile. A relieved look on her face, she gave him a smacking kiss and a long hug. He asked her a question before she pointed back into the crush where Rachel was trying to make her way towards him.

Security kept the celebrating people back, giving Rachel a wide berth until she found Puck and jumped into his arms.

"We did it, Rach!" he whooped. "Super Bowl!"

Rachel threw her arms skyward, singing, "We Are the Champions" at the top of her lungs. She leaned down and thumped her little fists on his shoulder pads.

"Guess what, Noah?"

Puck grinned. "What, Star?"

"You're not a Lima Loser anymore."

Puck threw his head back and laughed, twirling her around in a circle as the confetti rained down.

xxx-xxx-xxx

The euphoria that surrounded them in the wake of Puck and the Chargers' Super Bowl win, but as soon as they returned to Los Angeles, it was back to reality, and Rachel was faced with a rather interesting conundrum that had revealed itself upon their return.

Jesse had called her, saying that he had gotten the green-light to start production for the pilot he had developed and wanted her to come in and read for Becca Bly. He had told her to think about it, but he wanted an answer soon so that he could start casting her costars.

Rachel worried her lip as she gazed down at the thick sheaf of papers before her, making up the script to Jesse's new project, a scripted television comedy that represented his foray into a new medium of entertainment. If she were to accept, it would be quite a step for her two, a further expansion of her resume to yet another medium. Still, she felt a pull to this project, one she hadn't felt since she had heard of the _Millie_ revival. It was compelling her to take this opportunity. She looked at the script, the character Jesse wanted her for practically jumped out of the page.

**REBECCA "BECCA" BLY (SOPHOMORE):** _Main cast_. Provides the cynical, yet insightful narrative to the off-color hijinks of Millard Fillmore High School.

Even the first scene of the pilot was so engaging, so visually stimulating, that she could see it form in her mind. She could see herself inserted in Becca's head, seeing what the girl saw and observing what went on around the fictional sophomore.

* * *

><p><em>School sucks.<em>

_That's really all there is to it._

_A bad teen movie – not one of John Hughes' because let's face it, he's pretty badass – would wax nostalgia on the issue and tritely state that the four years spent in high school are the best of your life._

_I say if high school were the best years of your life, you've led a sad and miserable existence of failure and broken dreams._

_In high school, one is subjected to the banal social hierarchy that glorifies untenable standards of beauty, scoffs at intellectuals, and pokes fun at those who stumble through puberty and adolescence like _normal_ people. _

_Sure, I guess there's value in high school. These years could be used as preparation for the advanced education that's supposed to prepare one for the "real world." But, come on…who really uses it as that?_

_Me? I just use those eight or so hours to piss off as many people as I can and get my kicks while doing it._

_Because let's face it. You prepare for the real world by living in it._

The first morning of the new school year at Millard Fillmore High School in Belleville, Illinois seemed nothing out of the ordinary. The general population milled around the grounds, idling until the bell rang to start the day. The jocks, led by football quarterback Tyler Dixon and his best friend Tucker "Tuck" Cohen were tossing some loser into a dumpster, high-fiving each other with delight. The cheerleading squad occupied the quad, designated to be the veritable throne room of the Fillmore elite, that surrounded the statute of Millard Fillmore, some chatting, some absentmindedly going through their new routine under cheerleading captain Taylor Bradshaw's watchful eye.

The bustling activity didn't even pause at the sound of a rumbling roar that only grew more deafening with each passing second. Those new, freshmen eyes turned to the entrance of the parking lot as a sprawling motorcycle knifed through the pavement. All black with accents of purple and white, it shone in the mid-fall sun. The machine was dark and imposing, a complement to the rider perched on the seat. All eyes followed the bike as it eased to a stop in the few motorcycle parking spots the lot offered, and the rider dismounted.

The rider wasn't tall but cut a striking profile, and it was clear the figure was female, the snug leather motorcycle jacket highlighting a pair of pert breasts. She dipped her head down, removing the full-face helmet, and shook out a wave of dark chocolate hair streaked with royal blue.

Becca Bly was famous …or infamous, depending on whom you asked. She was a loner, the James Dean-like paragon of teenage rebellion and apathy, often huddled in the back corner of the classroom, staring disinterestedly at the wall, and no one knew where she spent her lunch periods. She kept to herself and had a habit of bucking the common norms of the school, which never failed in irking the strict social hierarchy in place. They knew better than to cross her, however. One made the mistake of attempting to do so and paid for it rather dearly. It was rather funny to see a large nose tackle handed his ass by the relatively tiny misfit. Becca went out of her way to antagonize the popular elite of MFHS, mocking their pretentious ways, if only just for kicks. Everyone else, she regarded with quiet apathy.

_In this school, the social lines are pretty clear. _

Becca passed a group of boys huddled together, the navy blue, gray, and white of their jackets worn as a symbol to their place among MFHS's elite. The quarterback, Tyler Dixon, lorded over his minions. His long, lanky arm was draped over the shoulders of his girlfriend, cheerleading captain Taylor Bradshaw.

_ The jocks and the cheerleaders are at the top. Which makes absolutely no sense to me because I don't think there has ever been a year where we've had a winning season in _any_ sport. And of course, football rules supreme…another weird paradox. I can count the number of wins the football team had in the last two years on one hand. On average, Dixon gets sacked more times a game than he throws completions._

_ The cheerleaders are the undisputed royalty of Fillmore High…mostly because they're the only athletic team that have done anything, like, at all. It's hard to argue with six consecutive cheerleading national championships. Their coach is like a legend. Sandy Sanderson. She's psycho. Like, legitly…_

Becca jumped as she heard the screech of reverb, and she backed away against the lockers as the tall, blonde woman stormed through, a bullhorn firmly pasted to her lips. Students scurried out of her way as she charged through, hollering out to her cheerleaders who jumped to attention and fell in line, scampering in her wake to the football field.

_ The middle is clogged with everyone else, mostly the people who don't really fit into a category. They're neither losers nor elite, but not safe from some jock's homing device…just _safer_._

Becca stopped by the bulletin board, noting the school announcements, scanning for anything remotely interesting. She scoffed at the flyer advertising auditions for the school's competition show choir, a signup sheet attached to the bottom. She wasn't surprised to see Reid Kingston's name atop the list. The boy was the king of the theatre geeks, awash with a hipster vibe and dramatic swagger that dropped him quite low on the totem poll of popularity. He had talent, though; she would give him that.

_And the artsy kids occupy the basement. But they like it there. Something about bucking the oppressive hold of a traditional, stringent society set out to repress their creative drive._

_Whatever._

_Last year, the history teacher Mr. Schuman tried to resurrect the school's competition show choir when the previous director was fired for inappropriate relations with his male lead. I'm sure that explains why there were only five members to start with…and most of them were girls. _

_Apparently, the show choir used to be huge, winning national competitions and all that. But that was when disco was "retro-cool". I have no idea how he did it, but Schuman managed to get Tyler Dixon, Taylor Bradshaw, and their cronies to join, which brought a couple more jocks and cheerleaders. I say blackmail was involved._

Becca looked to where Reid and his female lead, Portia Knolls, were squabbling, gesturing emphatically to a page of sheet music. Knowing them, it was who would sing the lead for whatever song was being waved around. They glanced up as Mr. Schuman walked past, and immediately the pair chased him down for his opinion.

_Even with more people, they pretty much sucked. __They don't have a strong bass singer, just a mishmash of first and second tenors, with a singular baritone who needed to work on his lower register. The girls carry the group though. Portia is pretty good; girl can belt it out like no other. Taylor Bradshaw has this pleasant, lilting voice, really soulful, like a Sara Bareilles or someone. I saw them perform once. They were sloppy and all over the place. They had heart, I guess. It's not much, but…_

_ …But not like I, you know, _watched them_ or anything. I don't even know what I'm talking about…_

Becca shook herself from her thoughts, continuing down the hallway. The masses parted for her, some curiously eyeing her as she passed, probably wondering what the big deal was about the little brunette who everyone pointedly stayed away from.

_ Me? I don't like boundaries. I occupy a social stratosphere all my own, and I don't like – _

Becca gasped as what could only be described as a wave of frigid sweetness struck her face. She could feel her eyes sting with a paradox of ice and fire. There was only one thing that could induce that sort of feeling. It was the jock's ultimate method of relegating someone to 'loser' status: A Super Gulp Slushie Shower.

Becca swiped a hand down her face. Immediately, she felt her anger swell, and she puffed up, turning to the idiotic jock who looked at his handy work with smug pride.

_ Oh _hell_ no…_

* * *

><p>"What are you looking at?"<p>

Rachel started, nearly upending the script in her lap. She was confused to see the glimmering hazel eyes of one Quinn Lucas staring curiously down at her from over the back of the couch.

"What are you doing here?"

"Santana let me in." Quinn leaned over, dropping a kiss on her lips before vaulting over the back and plopping down on the couch. She peered down at the script on Rachel's lap. "New script?"

Rachel nodded. "Yes, a pilot my friend Jesse St. James is developing."

"A pilot…as in for a TV show…" Quinn cocked an eyebrow at the deduction she quickly arrived at. "Are you thinking of making this LA jaunt a bit more permanent?"

Rachel bit her lip, playing with the corner of the script. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "My heart is first and foremost with Broadway; it will always welcome me with open arms. But who knows how long my novelty will last in Hollywood? Perhaps it is in my best interest to capitalize on my recent exposure and milk it while I am a commodity here. I believe the saying is 'strike while the iron is hot'?"

Quinn chuckled. "It would make sense," she conceded.

Rachel seemed to hesitate even further. "What do you think? Could you handle having me around all the time?"

Quinn glanced down at her, a slow smile melting across her features. "Yeah," she answered softly. "I could deal with that." She settled herself into a comfortable position and turned towards Rachel. "So what's it about? Your pilot," she clarified.

"Essentially, it's a dramatization and satire about our combined high school experiences," Rachel answered, passing over the script for Quinn to read through. "It centers on the high school's competitive show choir and the hijinks they get themselves into during a bid for a national show choir championship."

"How real is this?" Quinn asked, flipping through the pages.

Rachel chuckled. "The events it's actually based on are pretty accurate, if not sensationalized. There are similarities and references to actual persons, but most of this is fictionalized."

"Like these," Quinn peered down at the script, "Super Gulp Slushie Showers?"

"Oh, no, those are real," Rachel lamented. "It was the crowning indication of ones 'loser' status at McKinley."

Quinn's nose wrinkled. She remembered Rachel saying both McKinley and Carmel had similar breeds of Neanderthal, but she never knew exactly how similar. "Have you ever been…?"

"'Slushied' was the term," Rachel supplied. "And yes, I have."

Quinn shook her head. "How was that?"

Rachel cocked her head. "I believe my friend Kurt Hummel described the sensation as being, 'bitch-slapped by an iceburg.'"

Again Quinn shook her head. "That's barbaric…"

Rachel chuckled. "That's high school," she corrected, nudging Quinn. "I'm sure you remember."

"Painfully," Quinn drawled wryly. She leaned over, tossing the script onto the coffee table. "So, I'm guessing since this show revolves around a high school show choir, there will be singing involved?"

"Certainly," Rachel answered. "One of our staples during glee club was our spectacular musical numbers." She cocked her head. "Well, they didn't start as spectacular in our infant years, but they got better. I'm sure Jesse will also highlight that evolution."

Quinn chuckled. "So the television mainstream masses will now be subjected to your voice in prime time." She shook her head. "This must be like a dream for you."

Rachel tossed her head primly. "I admit the notion of utilizing all facets of my considerable talent is extremely appealing."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "I'm not sure I'm going to like the direction this is going to take your ego should you take this job…"

Rachel laughed, snuggling into the other woman. "It's not ego to have confidence in ones strengths, Quinn. My voice is the cornerstone of my talent. Without it, I'm merely an overdramatic, high-maintenance actress with a profoundly Jewish nose."

"And with it?" Quinn prompted with a grin.

Rachel canted her head with a mock-superior look. "I am a diva in the best of ways." She reconsidered that point. "Perhaps in the worst of ways as well…but those instances are not prominent in my history."

Quinn chuckled. "Conversations with you never cease to be entertaining." She contemplated a thought for a moment. "You know, I was thinking…"

"That's dangerous," Rachel quipped.

"Har-dee-har-har," Quinn retorted. She raked her fingers tenderly through Rachel's hair. "I want to take you out."

"Out?" Rachel's head bobbed up from its spot on her chest. "Like on a date?"

"Yeah."

The slow melting smile curved Rachel's mouth, and she plopped her head back down on Quinn's chest with a contented sigh. "I'd like that. As soon as possible, please."

Quinn smiled against Rachel's hair. "Well, I have an interview with Johnny Keane, but maybe after that? You could come with me?"

"Deal."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Johnny Keane could be described as a fortunate victim of circumstance. He wasn't the best looking guy, not particularly handsome but not completely unfortunate-looking either. What he lacked in aesthetic appeal, however, he made up with humor and affability. His debut to the masses had been on a guy's show, aptly titled _It's Bro Time,_ talking about sports, alcohol, and hot women, cracking inappropriate fart jokes as he lazily reclined in an overstuffed armchair, his hand permanently attached to a beer koozie housing a Bud Light. One would have never thought he would go beyond that show, but his genial personality and surprisingly insightful questions had landed him the prime gig of hosting a late-night talk show.

Currently, Johnny sat behind a desk in a suit and tie – a long call from his jeans and t-shirt days of _It's Bro Time_ – grinning lopsidedly out to the camera as he introduced Quinn.

"My next guest is best known as Lizzie Nichols on NBC's _Queen of Babble_ but coming soon, she will make her way onto the big screen as First Lieutenant Sloane Gerard in _Duty and Honor_. Please welcome Quinn Lucas!"

The cheers were electric as Quinn entered. There was just something about the way she moved, the way she walked. It wasn't overt, it was completely subtle, a sensual sway of her hips that promised everything and nothing at the same time. The slim white jeans moved with every step of her long, lean legs, a pair of awesomely loud red pumps at her feet. A cropped leather jacket covered a shimmery gray top, the sleeves of the jacket pushed to her forearms. Her hair was wild and unruly, framing the features of her face highlighted with subtle, smoky makeup. She looked stunning, edgy yet elegant at the same time. Quinn stopped in front of Johnny and greeted him with a hug and a kiss before sinking into the chair beside his desk.

"Hello, Quinn Lucas."

Quinn flashed a grin of straight, white teeth. "Hello, Johnny."

"So, I hear your week's been pretty great. You were recently spotted at the Super Bowl, did you have a good time?"

"Oh, that was epic," Quinn enthused, crossing her legs and reclining comfortably in the chair. "A great game, all the way down to the wire, and of course, best thing yet, my team won!"

"Congratulations to the San Diego Chargers." Johnny shook his head. "I wish I could muster up more enthusiasm, but they beat out my Bills during the Wild Card round." As Quinn shrugged her deference, Johnny leaned forward onto his forearms.

"So how _did_ you manage to swing tickets for that game?"

"My costar, Rachel Berry, is Noah Puckerman's best friend," Quinn answered. "I was just lucky enough to be along for the ride."

"Speaking of Rachel Berry, she is starring opposite you in Duty and Honor coming out pretty soon. How has that been?"

Quinn smiled. "It's gone very well. She's a joy to work with. Probably everything hilarious that happened on set was Rachel's doing."

"So this new movie of yours, you play a Marine."

"I do."

"Now, I gotta ask…" Shouts and catcalls sounded when a photo appeared up on the screen of Quinn posing in her costume of just a sports bra and form-fitting sweatpants, her chiseled abdominals on display and her lean arms flexed to show the bulge of bicep muscle. Quinn ducked her head down, shaking it in amusement. "How does one achieve this?" Johnny inquired with a smirk. "I mean, the only six pack I can lay claim to is the one of Corona in my fridge at home."

"It wasn't easy," Quinn affirmed. "When I heard I got the part, I sat down with Chris Keller to talk about the character, and we were like, 'Well, she's been part of the military in some form or fashion since she was eighteen, so she's gotta be fit.' Then I could tell both Chris and I were thinking of my body shape and how I was built at the time – which was definitely not like that – and we were like, 'Yeah, that's not gonna be convincing…'"

"So you hired a trainer?"

"I hired a trainer who basically kicked my ass for the better-part of two months prior to us filming." Quinn gestured to the photo. "Mini She-Hulk was what came from all that."

Johnny shook his head. "Well, I'm impressed." He looked down to his notecards. "Now, the Internet has been buzzing about this movie, and a good amount of it has been about you. I mean," Jimmy read off a few headlines. "Some of this stuff is pretty out there."

"Because _everything_ you read on the Internet is true," Quinn drawled wryly.

"So you are _not_ engaged to _Code Blue_ star Logan Hawthorne?" Johnny asked, naming one of the core group of detectives in the police procedural that aired in the same timeslot as _Queen of Babble_ on a competing network.

"That's a new one," Quinn mused with a sardonic smile. "I can honestly say that I have never met the guy in my life." She shrugged. "Besides, we battle with them weekly for ratings. I can't do it on principle. And I'm, you know, _gay_…"

Johnny laughed, nodding. "Yes, there is that. Rival networks and completely wrong gender. And you're also not two-timing him with pop star Trisha Steele?"

"I have no idea where they get these ideas," Quinn commented, shaking her head. "I mean, you present an award with someone and all of a sudden, there's a top-secret relationship. I mean, if it was that easy, someone find me Olivia Wilde!"

"But you _do_ know Trisha Steele?" Johnny clarified.

"I do," Quinn affirmed with a nod. "We met briefly during the award show before we presented. It was a 'Hi, I'm a fan,' 'Oh, you are, so am I!' sort of conversation and that was it." Quinn shrugged. "I have no idea how that two minute exchange became a torrid love affair."

"Well, we know all about your _fake_ love affairs," Johnny hedged. "Can we know about any _real_ love affairs?"

Quinn merely smiled. It was a dazzling smile, but not a single syllable escaped from her lips.

"Nothing?"

The only response was a leisurely rising eyebrow.

Johnny sighed good-naturedly. "Only you can say so much by saying nothing at all." He tore up his note cards, flinging them away in mock exasperation. "Is there anything you _can_ say?"

"I can say that I am excited for the movie," Quinn quipped.

"Can we put that on record?"

"No comment," she responded cheekily.

Any other host would have probably been supremely frustrated with the lack of response, but Johnny took it all in stride and with good humor, playfully cajoling Quinn for any little nugget for him to work with. He laughed, shaking his head.

"I hate you, Quinn. You know that, right?"

Quinn merely grinned widely, and no one could really stay mad at her. It was just a Quinn Lucas thing. Everyone knew it.

Johnny slapped his palms on his desk. "Watch Quinn Lucas in _Duty and Honor_, out soon."

xxx-xxx-xxx

Rachel walked down the street, her arm threaded through her date's, eyes scanning the general area carefully for any wayward paparazzi. She felt classy but sexy in a mini dress and her best pair of Jimmy Choos. She looked over at Quinn and bit her lip. The blonde was clad in form-fitting black slacks with a double-breasted black vest, the unbuttoned collar plunging to scandalously reveal a good amount of skin. Quinn loved to rock slightly androgynous style, effortlessly molding her feminine and masculine energies together, but no one could deny Quinn Lucas was a women. Especially not with that ass.

The restaurant Quinn chose was classy and elegant, affording them sufficient privacy away from the rest of the patrons. Rachel was surprised that it was a vegan-friendly Japanese restaurant, something she had no idea existed. She wasn't sure exactly what sorts of dishes were offered, so she deferred their choices to Quinn. As they were served, Rachel snuggled in close in their circular booth situated away from prying eyes and guarded by their combined security teams.

She tried the spinach salad with sesame sauce, surprised at the amount of flavor in the seemingly simple dish. "Okay, I get it. You and I really do approach these interviews differently."

Quinn nodded. "Basically, my philosophy is deal with only facts."

Rachel took a bite of the barbecue eggplant, frowning slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's a fact that I star on a show called _Queen of Babble_, it's a fact I'm playing Sloane Gerard, and it's a fact I'm gay," Quinn explained. "If it's been out there for awhile, if it's something confirmed by either myself or someone associated with me, I'm okay with talking about it. Anything concerning speculation, I refuse to talk about unless it pertains to work."

"You know, I'm surprised you're so candid with your sexuality," Rachel commented. "One would think that facet of your life would be something you'd be the most tight-lipped about."

"That's fair," Quinn admitted. "I know I'm a vault when it comes to stuff about me, but this is the one thing that I will never hide. It took awhile for me to be comfortable with who I am, there were a lot of obstacles I had to go through." She shrugged. "I'm not going back in the closet when it took me so much to even _peek_ out."

"And now you've unleashed Quinn Lucas, Lesbian Lothario to the greater female population of Hollywood," Rachel cheekily. She sighed dramatically, fanning herself with a hand. "The ladies of WeHo are better for it…"

Quinn scowled. "I'm not a Lothario."

"Tell me, then, Quinn," Rachel teased. "If I were to travel to the bowels of the lesbian population of the greater Hollywood area, how many would I find who have dropped their panties in the midst of one Quinn Lucas?"

Quinn frowned. "I'm not sure I like you knowing all of my dirty little secrets," she mused deprecatingly.

Rachel laughed, sliding in closer and propping her chin on Quinn's shoulder. "I don't know. Doesn't that sound…_enticing_…?"

Quinn craned her neck down to meet Rachel's eyes, her own gaze burning with a smoldering fire that immediately sent a tremble skittering down Rachel's spine. Slowly, she lifted up her hand loosely curled into a fist. Quinn retracted her index finger in to brace on the inside of her thumb. Placing pressure on the digit, she used the expended tension to send her finger shooting out to flick the end of Rachel's nose.

The little diva squeaked, recoiling back and clapping her hands over her nose at the slight sting. Her eyebrows drew together in consternation, and she glared at Quinn over her hands.

"You could have just said no," Rachel whined.

Quinn merely laughed, leaning forward to press a consoling kiss to Rachel's nose.

* * *

><p><em>"Some buzz out of Hollywood, Rachel Berry's been coy about who her new romantic interest is following much speculation that perhaps her Mr. Right is a <em>Miss_ Right. Dale Miller has more."_

_"Thanks, Michael. Quinn Lucas is notorious for her reputation as an Ice Queen. But as the stars left Johnny Keane's studio following Lucas' taping, this picture was snapped. A rather cozy sight for two costars that are reportedly 'just friends.' Sources tell me that Lucas and Berry have developed quite a close relationship during their filming of Duty and Honor, and with the amount of affection exchanged between the two, it wouldn't be hard to believe a romance has blossomed."_

_ "Could Quinn Lucas be the mystery lover Rachel Berry's been dangling? Looks like we'll have to keep an eye on that."_

* * *

><p>xxx-xxx-xxx<p>

They cuddled on Quinn's couch, nursing a bottle of wine between the two of them. Quinn's vest was looped over the back of the couch, her shirt untucked and heels kicked off beside Rachel's by the door. Rachel sighed, leaning up to brush a tender kiss on Quinn's lips.

"That was nice. Thank you, Quinn."

Quinn smiled, returning the kiss. "It was my pleasure."

"I do have to ask…" Rachel hedged, playing with the buttons of Quinn's dress shirt. "What are we? I don't make a habit out of bestowing such amorous attentions on my friends, and I certainly don't do casual relationships."

"Well," Quinn cleared her throat. "I guess we're…you know…uh, _girlfriends_."

Rachel contemplated that for a long moment before acknowledging Quinn's assertion with a firm nod. "I accept this designation."

Quinn scratched her head. "That was the most unromantic ask and acceptance ever."

Rachel chuckled, burying her face in Quinn's neck. "It's not a proposal, Quinn." She laid a kiss to the skin before resting her head on Quinn's chest. "This isn't gonna be easy, is it?" she mused.

"No," Quinn answered honestly. "But you're not a stranger to the challenges homosexual relationships face."

"That's true," Rachel conceded. "Lima wasn't the most open-minded place to grow up, and my fathers were not always readily accepted by the general community."

"I guess you gotta figure out what's most important to you," Quinn answered. "Your career or…" She left the alternative open-ended.

"You know, my fathers never hesitated to be anything other than who they were," Rachel commented. "Even when they were threatened, even when people ostracized them, they never let anyone else dictate how they should love one another. I don't know…I feel like I'd be doing them a disservice if I chose to not be true to myself and to whom I choose to show affection, regardless of gender or expectations, or whatever…"

"They would understand," Quinn comforted her. "This business is notorious for being judgmental. It's good to be principled, but you do have your livelihood to think about."

"Yeah, but I've always prided myself on going after what I want." Rachel rose slightly from her reclined position. "I want you, Quinn."

Quinn nodded. "I'm glad."

They stayed that way for a moment before Quinn rose, taking their empty wine glasses to the kitchen. Quinn rinsed them out and placed them in the dishwasher, turning back to Rachel. "You wanna stay?"

Rachel shot her a mock-scandalized look. "Lucy Quinn Fabray, was that a proposition?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "How quickly she jumps to sex," she teased.

"I can't help it," Rachel whined, nuzzling into Quinn. "You're hot."

The blonde laughed, slinging an arm around Rachel's shoulders. "And you're adorable, but no that wasn't a proposition."

Rachel propped her chin on Quinn's chest and pouted.

"Just to sleep, Rachel," Quinn chastised lightly.

"Fine," Rachel conceded with a huff. "Just to sleep." Rachel raised her palms, wiggling her fingers. "I'll keep my hands to myself, promise."

"Well, that's not enticing either," Quinn cajoled.

"Fine, I'll keep my hands in respectable places," Rachel amended.

Quinn chuckled and stretched out a hand to lead them up the stairs. "Alright, Berry. I'll hold you to that."

As they readied themselves for bed, sliding beneath the covers, Rachel turned to Quinn.

"For what it's worth, if I had to choose a woman with whom to share an open relationship, I'm glad it's you."

Quinn smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Rachel's ear. "Goodnight, Rachel."

"Goodnight, Quinn."

Rachel rotated, fitting herself into the natural curve of Quinn's body. She blindly groped for the blonde's hand, tangling their fingers together and holding their joined hands over her heart.

"Quinn?"

"Hmmm?"

"I know there are still things you are hesitant to tell me." Rachel snuggled in closer. "I just wanted to let you know that you can trust me. Whatever you tell me will be kept in complete confidence. I would never betray your trust."

Quinn contemplated that for a moment. She didn't answer, merely buried her face in Rachel's hair and drew the little brunette closer. She knew she could trust Rachel, she knew that her secrets were safe with the tiny diva who had quite methodically picked apart all of her defenses, but this was something she had buried deep inside her for so long. The only people that had knowledge of this were Declan and her family. There would be time to tell Rachel everything; there was no doubt in Quinn's mind that it would all come out eventually.

But for now…

For now, this was good.

_And there we go. I hope you guys enjoyed it all. Don't worry, the Babygate issue is NOT done, we will touch more on it and how it impacts Quinn and Rachel. The media storm also gets more intense with Rachel's revelations, much to her chagrin, but one of the gang helps Rachel put everything in perspective. And, of course, I have opened up the possibility of Rachel sticking around LA…wonder if she'll take the opportunity? _

_As you can see, this story is starting to wind down, but don't worry. There is more to come in the form of a sequel. As usual, let me know what you guys think here, at Twitter, or over at Tumblr, and don't forget to leave a few words to the other half of Team P&K, CJ, __**CJersey82**__ over at Twitter and Tumblr! See you guys next time._

*ISP


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